


tourney at harrenhal & after

by KitFistosBeard



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Drama, Angst and Romance, Betrothals and Betrayals, Canon Divergence - Robert's Rebellion, F/M, Learning harsh lessons about consequences, Life is Not a Song, POV Lyanna Stark, Playing with Canon, Pre - Robert's Rebellion, R Plus L Equals J, Tourney at Harrenhal, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 27,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24703984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitFistosBeard/pseuds/KitFistosBeard
Summary: Lyanna finds herself at the center of her father's southron ambitions, much to her own disapproval. As a lady of Westeros however, she has little say in it. Unknown to her, these frustrations and their resulting actions at the Tourney at Harrenhal will have a lasting effect for all of Westeros and change her family's trajectory for generations.The tourney and its resulting events from Lyanna's perspective, as she meets the prince, gets to know her betrothed, and clings to the dreams of freedom that she feels are threatened by the plans of the men around her.
Relationships: Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Comments: 43
Kudos: 73





	1. Lady

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is the result of entering a rabbit hole of youtube videos and reddit threads on theories about the tourney at Harrenhal and Robert's Rebellion.
> 
> I mainly follow the theory of the Harrenhal Conspiracy by KingLittleFinger on Reddit and InDeepGeek on Youtube, but I play around with it for narrative purposes. Hope you enjoy, this is my first dive into this era of ASOIF history.

The castle of Harrenhal looms over the heads of the weary travellers as they approach. Lyanna Stark and her eldest and younger brothers, Brandon and Benjen, lead the pack, accompanied by a number of northern men hoping to find glory at this fame tourney. Lyanna was here because her father instructed her to woo the Baratheon elder brother. Apparently their first introduction did not go according to the great Rickard Stark’s plan, as he described Lyanna’s behaviour as “cold” and “not becoming of a lady to be wed”. Their last conversation echoed in her head the whole journey south. She wished she could simply be excited for the jousting and the feasting like her brothers.

“Lyanna. We have to find Ned and Robert. Please try and look pleasant, for Father’s sake.” Brandon rides up beside her, noticing her sour mood.

“I am excited to see Ned, but I have no intentions of going along with Father’s foolish plan.” Lyanna continues riding, trying to outpace Brandon but their large group keeps her boxed in on all sides. 

“You’re a lady, Lyanna. Marrying lords is what you’re meant to do.” Brandon, in a perfect imitation of their father, sys sincerely. “Robert is a great lord and would make a powerful ally for Father.”

“Then Father can marry him. Excuse me.” Lyanna finds a break in the group and rides off, leaving behind her eldest brother’s lecture.

The tourney grounds have already been set up, multiple tents and sands prepared for the events to come. The prince truly spared no expense or was it truly the Whents who flaunted this wealth. Lyanna wasn’t privy to the true purpose of this event, she only knew every lord in Westeros was using it for her own agenda. If every Stark did not return from Harrenhal with a betrothal and Robert with a crown, Rickard may go as mad as the true king. Lyanna finds the stable and puts away her horse, leaving it with a kind yet simple looking stable boy.

Surveying the grounds, she can fully take in the size of the castle. They truly do have the space to take in every lord and lady with rooms to spare. So why is Lyanna being relegated to tents with her brothers? There’s no respect for Northerners here, she thinks to herself, why is Father so desperate for us to mix with them? She finds an unguarded entrance to the castle and slips inside. Brandon and Benjen can set up the tenets. Lyanna wishes to explore this mysterious castle and prolong her inevitable reunion with Ned and Robert. 

The last of the day’s light seeps in over the hallway she finds herself in, creating odd shadows dancing on the stone walls. Lyanna knows the stories of what happened here centuries earlier. If the castle is truly haunted, Lyanna seeks to find the ghosts. If she is doomed to be the wife of some arrogant, presumptuous lord, she plans to have some adventures first. 

The hallway with dancing shadows leads her to another less touched by natural lighting and not yet lit by torches. Lyanna continues on, unimpeded. She wonders how a family such as the Whents manage to keep a castle of this magnitude, clearly not well if the stale scent of the tapestries and general disarray of these halls are any indicator. Maybe there’s a Whent she can marry instead of the stag. At least a haunting would keep her married life interesting. 

Lyanna hops playfully from one uneven tile to another, as if she were a child again, chasing the cats of Winterfell with Benjen. Everything was simpler then, and it all got so complicated so fast. Brandon was set to marry a Tully girl in the summer, once it came. She was said to be fair and good if Brandon is to be believed. But he spoke of her as a duty, not a subject of his love. Lyanna wanted more than that for herself. When Brandon spoke of marrying Catelyn Tully, he spoke of Riverrun and her father and alliances, not of the girl’s eyes, or her disposition, or her personality. Lyanna did not wish to be spoken of the same way by Robert Baratheon, a military alliance with a womb to create more sons. 

She continues her brooding exploration of the castle and comes across a small room, unkempt and rotting. The wood of the furniture eaten by time and neglect. By the window, a silver headed man sits with a harp but does not play. He looks out, the sunset hitting his shoulder length hair, causing ripples to appear as he surveys the people below. Lyanna freezes in place, unsure if she got caught somewhere she shouldn’t be. 

“Sorry!” She stammers, “I was exploring, I probably shouldn’t have.” She moves to step out of the room sheepishly.

“Don’t apologize.” The man says, still peering out the window, his face partially hidden by the silver mane. “I was just looking for solitude before this festival begins. I have to play this song exactly right.” He looks off with such melancholy, Lyanna doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh. 

“I’ll leave you to that then.”

“Don’t feel like you need to.” He turns to face her, and she sees his striking indigo eyes. With them fixated on her, Lyanna feels incredibly vulnerable not least because it finally sinks in who this man is. 

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I did not know; please forgive me I forget myself.” She does her best impression of a Southern lady curtsy. Judging by his bemused, expression it was a poor imitation. “I’m Lyanna. Lyanna Stark. Lady Lyanna, I guess.” She feels the blush rush to her cheeks, feeling like a foolish princess from a song.

“Lady Lyanna, it’s a pleasure.” The prince smiles, taking her hand to kiss it gently. His lips feel impossibly soft. “You can just call me Rhaegar.”

“Okay, Rhaegar.” Lyanna smiles, “and please call me Lyanna. Only my brothers call me Lady when they mean to tease.” Lyanna hears herself say before she can stop herself. What a fool she is making of herself, and in front of the crown prince no less. 

“Of course, Lyanna.” Rhaegar laughs a smooth and melodic sound that echoes through the room.

“What song must you play exactly right that you’re hiding away to practice? May I hear it?” Lyanna asks, gesturing to the harp. 

“I’m afraid that song’s not ready yet.” Rhaegar says, some of his earlier melancholy returning. He plucks on string of the instrument, which sounds almost as sad as he does. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to impose.” Lyanna backs away. Maybe her father and brother were right, she’s more direwolf than lady, if this interaction was any indication.

“I hope to play a song for you one day though, maybe at this very tourney.” Rhaegar continues, his deep purple eyes travelling back to the activity below. Lyanna walks to look out the window as well, she can just make out the Stark banners on the far side of the expansive courtyard.

Rhaegar leans in slightly to see where she is looking, his shoulder brushes hers unintentionally and her heart skips despite herself. This Targaryen was impossibly handsome, and mysterious. An adventure very appealing to Lyanna. She studies his face as he peers out towards her banners. 

“Your brothers came, right? Even the one in the Vale?” 

“Ned? Yes, he should have arrived today as well.” Lyanna looks out the window again, as though she could see him from there. 

“Good, and the eldest?” Rhaegar says, his gaze unmoving. 

“Brandon. Yes, and the youngest Benjen. We all came.”

“Not your father?”

“There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” Lyanna says, as she’s heard her father say a thousand times. Rhaegar chuckles at this and looks back at Lyanna. She keeps her eyes fixated on the window for if she meets the prince’s gaze her stomach may jump out of her throat. 

“I should go before my squire misses me too much.” Rhaegar says in a whisper. Lyanna is unsure why, they hadn’t been whispering before, and the hushed tone sends shivers up her spine.

“And I should go before my brothers build the whole tent and force me to sleep outside for not helping.” Lyanna responds, and Rhaegar smiles softly, offering her his arm to escort her out. She accepts it, giggling at the formality of it feeling like a girl at play again. When her Karstark cousins would come to Winterfell and insist on games of Lord and Lady. 

Rhaegar untangles their arms once they’re back in the hall in case any wandering eyes should see. Lyanna walks graciously by his side before excusing herself at the door she entered through. Rhaegar takes her hand once more and kisses it softly.

“It was truly delightful to meet you, Lady Lyanna.”


	2. Lord

“Ned, I do not wish to marry him.” Lyanna whispers to her brother at the opening night feast. All the noble houses stuffed into the great hall of Harrenhal. The Starks and their men off to the far back. Lyanna can barely make out the head table, where the Targaryen prince sits with his wife and the Whents. She can also see Arthur Dayne, identifiable by his legendary sword sitting coolly by the gathering.

“Robert? But he’s a fine man, a lord! We’re as close as brothers.” Ned says, again. It’s as if that’s the only line he knows. Sweet, naïve Ned.

“So you know him, and how he is. Look!” She gestures to another table where the Baratheon is sitting with a woman on his lap, pulling playfully on his beard. “I cannot be betrothed to that. He’ll never settle for just one bed.”

Ned falls silent. The drunken antics of his friend speaking for themselves. Lyanna looks sullenly down at her own glass. Wine was only exciting when she wasn’t allowed to drink it. Now it was only sour fruit, making the men around her increasingly unpredictable. She didn’t like that. Benjen was next to her, becoming more and more giggly by the minute.

“Ned, we must find you a woman!” Benjen announces loudly. Howland Reed, the small bannerman of her father’s had met up with Ned on the way down from the North and has blended in with their group nicely, laughs along. The crannogman has also been in his cup it seems.

“Ned will marry whoever his father tells him it is honourable to marry.” He adds, laughing away. Lyanna rolls her eyes.

“I will not! Who wants to marry a second son?” Ned laments.

“A second daughter perhaps.” Brandon says, ever sincere. “That’s why we’re here, dear brother. Socialize!”

“Ned’s too shy!” Lyanna teases, “All these Southern girls are too intimidating for him.”

“Tell you what, Ned. See her? The Dayne girl next to her brother, Ashara? I’ll go talk to her. She just danced with Oberyn Martel, surely she’ll have a dance with you.” Brandon gets up and before Ned can protest his older brother is off in the direction of a table near the front of the room where a young girl with long dark hair sits, her eyes laughing even from a distance. 

“She is pretty, Ned.” Howland says, having finally stopped giggling.

“A Dornish girl wouldn’t move to the North! It’s too cold!” Benjen exclaims, which sets him and Howland off in another round of laughter. Lyanna stands, having had enough of her brother’s foolishness for one evening. Knowing there will be ten full days of it, this will be an endurance game. They’ve had a long day of travel, and she’d quite like to lay down to rest.

“Lyarra! You cannot mean to leave yet!” Robert, already belligerent, stumbles over to her. “I wish to get to know my betrothed.”

“Well I hope you find her soon, Robin.” Lyanna says coldly just as Brandon returns behind her.

“Lyanna is joking! Always making dry jokes. That’s just her humour, Robert.” Brandon says frantically, pushing past Lyanna to stand between them. Robert’s face is drunk and confused. Lyanna feels only pity for him, and rage for her family who enabled this match. She turns to look back at the dais, where Rhaegar is now standing with his harp. A hush falls over the crowd as he begins to play. 

Lyanna sits next to Benjen, deliberately where there’s no space for Robert to squeeze in next to her. Rhaegar’s harp sounds beautifully sad, and as he begins to sing Lyanna feels her heart rise and fall with his melody. The words are hopeful, yet the tone is sad. Rhaegar’s boomingly soft voice fills the room and Lyanna with it. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever heard and as it ends she feels herself longing for the song to continue forever. Warm, wet tears fall down her cheek despite herself. 

“Lyanna! Are you crying?” Benjen laughs as the room erupts in applause for the prince.

“Shut up, Benjen!” Lyanna wipes at her face with her sleeve, embarrassed. Her brother does not stop, and only continues to tease. Lyanna, frustrated with the night’s events and overcome with emotion, dumps the remains of her wine over Benjen’s head, much to the visible dismay of her elder brothers. She meets Brandon’s eyes defiantly, then runs out of the hall.

Unfortunately, he’s quick on her heels and catches up effortlessly. He pulls on her arm and leads them towards Lyanna’s tent. She gulps, knowing she’s about to get an earful. Brandon closes the tent and pulls Lyanna in close, so he need only whisper.

“What are you thinking, Lyanna? Are you set to ruin all of Father’s plans?” He says in a terrifyingly calm whisper. 

“I do not want to marry Robert.” Lyanna whispers back timidly. “I do not want to be here, and play this game.”

“You will be a queen.”

“Father said not to speak that part of the plan out loud, Brandon.” Lyanna’s stomach falls, knowing the most dangerous part of father’s plan was foolish. To challenge the Targaryen rule, to back the stag against a dragon. Two dragons. Lyanna wanted no part of it, and was worried for her brothers’ willingness to go along with it.

“You needed a reminder, sister. Please don’t be hostile. This week will be tricky enough. I don’t need to keep an eye out on you as well.” Brandon continues in a hushed tone.

“I can take care of myself. I am a lady grown.” Lyanna pushes back defiantly.

“You are a foolish girl, who does not think before she acts. I need you to think, Lyanna.” Brandon walks towards her and holds her shoulders, almost frantically. Lyanna meets his eyes, and swears she sees a hint of fear behind the anger. She swallows slowly, considering her next words. 

“Of course, Brandon. I’ll be good.”


	3. Squire

Lyanna appears from her tent the next morning, Brandon’s words ringing in her ears. Her outburst embarrassing her whole house. Maybe her father was right, she’s still a child but needs to be a lady fast. Outside the tent, many people are wandering around still in drunken stupors. Hopefully, none of them are set to fight today. From an adjacent tent, Howland appears looking worse for wear. 

“Howland! The night get the better of you?” Lyanna teases. The crannogman is a gentle soul, and Lyanna enjoys his company the most out of her brother’s bannermen. 

“Not the night, three squires.” He replies, and Lyanna can see the bruising around his eyes. Her jaws drop in shock. 

“Where are they? Their knights must answer for that.” Lyanna immediately jumps to action. “Let’s wake Benjen!”

“Don’t be rash, Lyanna! Think this through, how will you face three knights?” Howland pulls Lyanna into his tent, where Benjen has also crashed for the night. He yawns as the commotion stirs him awake.

“Howland? Lya?”

“Wake, Ben! We must fight for Howland’s honour!” Lyanna crosses the tent indignantly. 

“What happened to Howland?” Benjen sits up, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Lyanna is being dramatic, and not thinking.” Howland sits back on the bed, rubbing an obvious sore point on his neck.

“Howland? You hurt?” Benjen finally clues in and sits to attention. Finally, Lyanna has some help.

“Some squires jumped me, it’s nothing Benjen.” Howland shrugs him off. 

“Tell him it’s not nothing, Ben! Who were the knights?” Lyanna exclaims, annoyed at the inaction.

“It was the squires, not knights. I don’t know.” Howland flinches as Lyanna begins to assess his wounds.

“Well I’ll find out and come up with a plan.” Lyanna says, pulling Howland’s shirt over his head. “Benjen, grab some linen for me.” Benjen obliges, and she dresses some of the worse cuts and bruises across Howland’s chest. He sits tense and awkward.

“We’ll find out the knights, then we can fight them in the tourney!” Benjen suggests.

“I can’t fight in a tourney, Ben.” Howland scoffs, “And neither can you!”

“Lyanna can! She’s the best on a horse that I’ve ever seen!” Benjen exclaims, “I can find her some armor, Harrenhal is so large, there’s bound to be some spares lying around.”

“Yes! Thank you, Ben!” Lyanna smiles at her brother. The crannogman still looks hesitant. 

“You can’t fight, Lyanna. It’s a stupid plan. Maybe you can disguise yourself in armor, but once you speak the game will be over.” Howland shrugs his shirt back on once Lyanna finishes treating his wounds. Lyanna wishes he would see it from her perspective, wishes he would want to right this wrong. And what an adventure it would be. 

“We can disguise my voice, Howland! You can.” Lyanna sits down next to him, hoping he would pick up on her hints. “Surely, you didn’t spend all that time on the Isle of Faces and not learn a simple trick.”

“That’s a foolish use of magic.” 

“Your honour is not foolish, Howland! And it’s only my voice, not like it’s dark magic.” Lyanna playfully pushes at Howland’s shoulder, mindful of his injuries.

“It’ll be fun, Howland. All these pompous Southern lords and their silly games, we will play them for fools.” Benjen laughs. 

“Please, let me have this adventure, before I’m doomed to the life of Lady Baratheon.” Lyanna takes his hands in hers pleadingly. 

“Fine! Fine! Tonight, I will look for the squires.” Howland throws his hands up. Lyanna squeezes his hands in excitement, Benjen lets out a hoot, equally prepared for this new adventure. 

“And tomorrow we fight.” Lyanna smiles, thinking that after this, she'll keep her promise to Brandon.


	4. Brother

At the feast that night, Howland, Lyanna, and Benjen are on high alert, eagle eyes peering for the three squires. It’s exciting, to have a quest such as this. She feels alive in a way she hasn’t since her betrothal was announced. Currently, Robert Baratheon was next to her talking of some adventure he and Ned had in the Vale. Clearly Ned had told him to cool off on the women and give her some attention. She hadn’t been able to shake him all night. 

“When you come to Storm’s End, you’ll see my lady, the sea is beautiful and cruel. You’ll see.” Robert continues. 

“I’m sure I will. The north is beautiful and cruel is well.” Lyanna responds half heartedly, not wanting to engage too much. She looks up at the dais, the prince Rhaegar is sitting up straight, looking intently in her direction. She meets her gaze, although she’s unsure if he is actually looking at her. He seems off in another world, and she’s just in his current line of vision. Maybe she’ll test this, so she smiles. Subtle, so Robert will not notice. He has turned his attention to Ned, to fact check something about their time in the Vale. It does not matter, Lyanna thinks, all of Robert’s stories are the same. To her surprise, and excitement, Rhaegar smiles back. She quickly looks down, not expecting that. Looking back up, she finds him still staring at her. His princess, Elia Martel, next to him none the wiser. Lyanna feels a stab of guilt in her stomach. 

“Lyanna! Robert asked you a question, pay attention.” Brandon snaps her back to their table and she finds all her brothers and Robert staring at her. 

“Sorry, I was off in my thoughts.” Lyanna shakes out her hair and gives Robert her best, and fakest, smile. “What were you saying, my lord?”

Robert continues his story, if there was a question, he didn’t repeat it. Apparently, Ned had been particularly strong in one practice tourney, and Robert was boasting for him. There was evidently a lot of brotherly love between her brother and Robert. Perhaps Lyanna felt bad for disparaging Robert so often in Ned’s presence but she was so firm in her belief he would be a terrible husband. 

“You’re exaggerating, Robert. I only knocked him off his horse.” Ned laughs into his glass of ale. 

“I’m sure you’re just being humble, brother.” Lyanna smiles, knowing her brother’s habit of playing down his accomplishments. Lyanna’s gaze wanders back to where the prince sat, but he is no longer there. She instead meets the eyes of the princess, who looks away almost immediately. Lyanna looks back at Robert, who’s staring at her inquisitively. 

“I’m quite intrigued by you, Lyanna. You’re elusive.” Robert says, reaching to grasp her hand. Lyanna feels obligated to let him hold it.

“That’s – that’s kind of you to say, my lord.” She says, knowing Brandon is staring her down. 

“You can call me, Robert, you know. No need for formalities.” Robert laughs, a loud obnoxious thing that sets Lyanna on edge. 

“Is that what your whores call you, Lord Robert?” Lyanna says, before her judgement can catch up with her mouth. Robert recoils, clearly offended. He stands up suddenly and marches off. Lyanna shrugs and turns back to Howland, who’s peering out into the crowd. She deliberately ignores Brandon’s stare burning into her back. 

“Have you found them yet?” She whispers to him, Benjen leans in on the other side. 

“Two, a Haigh and a Frey.” Howland whispers, “I can’t find the third.” 

“We will before the night is over.” Benjen whispers back. 

“You three better stop whispering, we aren’t children anymore.” Brandon says sternly. “Whatever you are planning, it needs to stop.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Bran.” Lyanna rolls her eyes. 

“And you, Lyanna, need to go apologize to Robert.”” Brandon adds. Lyanna sits back, sulking, knowing Brandon will tell her father about her behaviour. Even this far from the north she’s still under his watchful eye.

“There’s the last, a Blount.” Howland points out to a far table where the Blount, Frey, and Haigh are sharing pints and bread. Lyanna observes their comradery with intrigued attention. 

“So, let’s get this plan in action.” Benjen whispers excitingly. Lyanna feels her own excitement beginning to boil over.


	5. Prince

The air in Harrenhal the next day is tense. After the king’s unexpected appearance at the tourney, everyone seems to be looking over their shoulder. Lyanna does not care much for this new development, it only seems to have put Brandon further on edge. She barely managed to escape his constant presence to find a corner to collect herself in and find the pieces of armor missing from the mismatched set Benjen assembled. She’s currently in an uninhabited area of the castle, sorting through a pile of abandoned gear, looking for a suitable helmet.

“This is no place for a lady. Lady Lyanna.” A smooth voice echoes through the room. Lyanna startles, sending a pile of armor clamoring over. She turns to face the prince, who’s leaning against the doorframe, eyeing her with amusement. 

“Your Grace, sorry. I know I shouldn’t.” She tries to find a reason to be looking through the armor but coming up with none.

“You don’t have to tell me what you’re doing, Lady Lyanna.” He smiles at her. He must know how charming he is. There’s no way this is unintentional, Lyanna thinks to herself.

“I’m looking for a helmet that fits.” She says anyways.

“You jousting today, Lady”

“Don’t call me lady, remember?” Lyanna says, continuing her fruitless search. 

“Yes, I remember, Lyanna. You wanted a song.” Rhaegar walks into the room and begins sorting through the armour with her. 

“I heard your song, at the opening feast. It was beautiful.” Lyanna whispers, her eyes fixated on the pile in front of her. 

“That was not the song I hoped to play this week. My father saw to it that I would not be able to play it.” Rhaegar laments somewhat cryptically. 

“Does your father not let you play the harp?” Lyanna asks, stopping her search to look at the prince. 

“My father does not like a great deal of things.” Rhaegar states simply. He produces a helmet from his end of the pile and offers it to Lyanna. “Will this fit?”

Lyanna takes the helmet from the prince and turns it over in her hands. It feels small enough. She places it over her head, it slides snugly over, and she looks at Rhaegar through the large slits for her eyes. 

“Yes, thank you.” She says and he smiles at her. She takes the helmet off again and smooths out her hair. While she’s doing this, Rhaegar moves in closer. She looks up to find him standing very close. His long silver hair almost brushing her face. 

“You’re very intriguing, Lyanna Stark. I’m quite taken with you if I’m to be honest.” He whispers and Lyanna feels her heart in her throat. What does she say to this. 

“Don’t be.” She blurts out. “You’re married, you’re the prince. Do not think of me.”

“Prince to a king the kingdom despises. Husband to a princess I do not love.” Rhaegar says in notes of melancholic despair. 

“You should not say such things. Princess Elia is beautiful, she is gentle, she is kind.” Lyanna holds the helmet tight against her chest and walks back towards the door.

“And yet I do not love her. She is all those things and more, but I do not love her.”

“Don’t. Rhaegar, you’re mad.”

“Then I’m a true Targaryen. Lyanna, what do you think of me?” The prince looks at her almost pathetically, his indigo eyes full of sadness.

“I think you do not know me, Your Grace.” She says and turns and runs from the room.


	6. Knight

After that day of fighting, Lyanna feels her adrenaline rushing. Finally, a true and proper adventure. The Knight of the Laughing Tree had unseated all three of the knights who insulted Reeds’ honour. Lyanna let the accomplishment sink in, holding onto the sensation so it would be embedded in her memory for years to come. She sits down next to Benjen, back in her normal clothes.

“That was awesome, Lyanna. How will the rest of the week even compare?” He laughs. 

“You cannot tell a soul, Benjen. Especially Bran or Ned. Only us and Howland can know.” Lyanna whispers.

“Of course, I’m not stupid. Bran think he’s lord of Winterfell already.” Benjen laughs. “And Ned is too good for his own good.”

“Agreed. Where is Howland? I haven’t seen him since the last match of the day.” Lyanna looks out towards the tents for their crannogman friend amongst the large crowds all chattering excitedly about the day’s events. 

“I saw him in the great hall with Ned and that Dayne girl, Ashara.” Benjen shrugs. “Maybe Ned will come home with a betrothal after all.”

“Or maybe Howland will.” Lyanna suggests, Benjen laughs. “I swear I saw Ashara look at him this morning! Don’t laugh!”

“Howland and Ashara Dayne?” Benjen continues to laugh, “If you say so, Lyanna.”

“I do say so, Ben.” Lyanna stands up, feeling restless all over again. “Alright, I’m going for a walk.”

She leaves her brother on his own and heads towards the forest, away from the crowd. She hadn’t been around this many people for so long in all her life. She wants a moment alone with the trees. The warm spring air brushes through her hair, still pressed from the helmet earlier. She runs her hands through the tangles, trying to tame them to no avail. 

She comes across a small clearing in the trees and amongst the rocks gathered in the middle she finds the prince, strumming his harp and humming softly. 

“Lyanna.” He says, looking up. “You were brilliant today. A true fighter.” He strums his harp once more before placing it next to him on the rocks. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lyanna says, wanting to run once more.

“The helmet, Lady Lyanna. I recognized the helmet.” Rhaegar laughs, the same melodic tone. “You know my father ordered me to find the Knight of the Laughing Tree.” Lyanna shifts nervously. 

“Should I run about this?”

“No, I see no knight. Only a wolf.” Rhaegar sighs, “I’m sorry I forgot myself earlier. I did not wish to offend.”

“It wasn’t right, your pregnant wife is here, the princess! I feel guilty –” 

“But you feel other things, in order to feel that guilt. So maybe I am not mad.” Rhaegar says, looking over at her with those impossibly purple eyes.

“That is not the point, Your Grace. I am betrothed to Robert Baratheon. I’m a lady, a Stark, I have no say.” Lyanna hears herself cry out. Rhaegar walks over to her and reaches out to hold her hand in comfort. 

“And what if you had a say?” He asks, tracing patterns over her palm with his thumb.

“No point in dwelling on impossibilities, Your Grace. I am to marry Robert, and you will have many sons with Elia Martel.” Lyanna collects herself again. Her father’s plan passes through her head, if it worked that last thing she said would not be true.

“What if we wrote a different song? What if another song has already been written?” Rhaegar presses on, holding onto her hand. 

“Then you’ll just have another pretty song. Our lives are not songs, Rhaegar.” Lyanna untangles her hand from his and meets his sad eyes with her own and smiles sadly. “My life could be a song, a really pretty song, I’m married a lord who fancies himself a king. He claims to love me. Isn’t that what all maidens sing of wanting? I do not want it; I do not want songs.”

“Robert fancies himself a king?” Rhaegar whispers, and Lyanna’s stomach drops to her knees, realizing her lethal mistake. In her emotions, caught up in the grandeur of Rhaegar and her own misery, she betrayed her own brother and father. The tears swell up into her eyes.

“I didn’t mean, I only said –” She stammers, “I speak of songs, not reality, Your Grace.” Lyanna wipes her eyes quickly, trying to save herself.

“No, it is true. You know, I hoped to be rid of my father, and rule in his stead at this tourney. He is tearing us all apart and will burn us all.” Rhaegar continues.

“The north won’t support you; they support Robert. My father wishes to see me be his queen.” Lyanna whispers. Rhaegar still gripping her hand, Lyanna is too frightened to move. 

“You do not wish to be queen?”   
“I only wish to be free.”

“You would be free with me.” He says in that cryptic way that suggest he is off in another land. “It feels meant to be. You are ice and I am fire. Maybe that is the song.”

“You sound mad, Rhaegar. There are no songs of us. We are strangers. A few chance encounters at a tourney do not make prophecies.” Lyanna begins to turn away, to find her brothers and rejoin the simplicity of the festivities. 

“I will prove it to you, Lyanna. There are songs about us, I’ve heard them before.” Rhaegar insists. 

“The only songs I’m interested in are ones in which I’m free. Am I free in your song of ice and fire?” She asks and he smiles softly, bringing up a hand to her hair.

“We will all be free, my lady.”


	7. Princess

Lyanna walks towards the main hall, remembering the afternoon through a fog of excitement, fear, and the unknown. The sun had set, creating menacing shadows across the stones. She’s slightly shaken by her encounter with the prince. He always spoke as though he had knowledge she did not. And yet, his indigo eyes through her head when she was not in his presence. She was just a foolish girl, looking for an escape from the life her father has set for her. That’s what is was, she decided. She’ll outgrow it. 

The festivities have gone down significantly since the arrival of the king. Men were still drunk, but everything felt a little more on edge. Brandon may not make it through the week for he seems so strung out. Lyanna probably has not been helping, has definitely not been helping as she has not spoken to Robert all day, not that he noticed. The Baratheon has been occupied with any number of girls. Lyanna felt insulted, as though her brothers expect her to suffer these indignities for the sake of their alliance and a throne.

She then thinks of the princess, Elia. Does she feel the same about Rhaegar? He evidently has wandering eye, under the guise of prophetic intent. Perhaps this is the lot of women in their position. Men get to do as they like, and Lyanna and Elia do as they’re told. She had one afternoon as the Knight of the Laughing Tree, and that is all she will ever have. 

“Lady Lyanna.” A smooth, Dornish accent approaches her from behind. Lyanna stomach twists into a knot as she turns to face the princess, early in a pregnancy barely pushing out beneath her yellow dress. Her deep brown eyes are kind, yet Lyanna can’t read much beyond that. 

“Princess, Your Grace. It’s an honour.” She awkwardly curtseys. Elia eyes her skeptically. Lyanna brushes her hair out of her face, displaced by her clumsy movement, “Sorry southern courtesies aren’t my strong suit.”

“That’s quite alright. I hope your voyage down from Winterfell was pleasant. I can’t say I’ve been that far north.” She smiles, a very measured smile. She gives her every indication that she is practice in courtly politics. Lyanna is surely outmatched. 

“It’s quite cold, I’m afraid. Nothing like the sands of Dorne I’m sure.” Lyanna says, mindful to stop her voice from shaking. 

“A beauty such as yourself is wasted on the north. You would thrive in Dorne my lady Stark.” She links her arm into Lyanna’s as they walk towards the hall. 

“You are kind to say so, Your Grace.”

“A beauty is also wasted on an insatiable stag.” Elia whispers as they enter the castle, “But the ambition of our fathers cannot be stopped, can they?” 

“Robert is –”

“A man, like any other. And does he love you?” Elia asks, her eyes full of sorrow. “Men who marry for the ambition of their fathers do not love their wives, I’m afraid.” 

“I’m sorry.” Lyanna averts her gaze from the princess’ heartbreaking eyes. 

“Don’t be, dear Lyanna. We all have roles to play, and songs to sing.”

“Songs?” Lyanna looks up, confused. 

“Maybe I’ve been with my husband for too long, to speak of songs.” Elia says softly, “Don’t worry, sweet Lyanna, there is freedom in our roles. If you know where to look. I have my daughter, and soon my son.” She caresses the small curve of her stomach gently. “I hope you find your way to Dragonstone one day, and we can truly get to know each other.” 

Lyanna isn’t sure of what to make of this interaction. She has no desire to go to Dragonstone, and she cannot understand why the princess has suddenly taken an interest in her. Unless someone saw her speaking to the prince. She has to be more careful.

“That would be lovely, your grace. I’ve heard Dragonstone is –”

“Cold and miserable, no need to lie. You’re not good at it, Lyanna.” Elia laughs in a smooth and melodic way that almost echoes the laugh of her husband. Lyanna stops walking to look at the princess, increasingly unpredictable and surprising. “What we should hope for instead is to one day both be in Dorne together, that would be truly ideal. You would love the Water Gardens, I just know.” Elia stops to stand on a step slightly higher than where Lyanna stands, they’re now eye to eye. Lyanna can tell Elia is search her for a sign of something, discomfort maybe? Or proof of her husband’s indiscretions.

“I would love to visit Dorne one day, Your Grace.”

“You can call me Elia. None of these courtly gestures seem natural on you.” Elia smiles, and Lyanna feels her own tension lift from her shoulders. Elia links her arm back with Lyanna’s and leads them towards the great hall. 

“That’s a fair assessment, the South feels quite foreign honestly.” Lyanna admits, and Elia nods knowingly. 

“I’m sure it does, Lyanna.” Elia says as they stop in front of the hall entrance. “I’ll leave you here to find your brothers. I must go and find out where my prince has hidden himself to sing his melancholic songs alone.” Elia eyes are searching hers again as she moves in to kiss her on the cheek. Lyanna stays frozen in her spot, trying to maintain composure. 

Elia keeps her gaze knowingly, and Lyanna’s stomach is in her throat. There is something calming and yet also terrifying about the way the princess navigates a conversation. Lyanna opens her mouth to say something, but realizes she has nothing to say and closes it just as quickly. Elia smiles.

“I hope the rest of your week here is pleasant, Lyanna. I’m sure our paths will cross again.” Elia says as she walks away, leaving Lyanna stunned in front of the hall.


	8. Queen

It’s the final day of the jousting competition and the excitement has only built. The disappearance of the Knight of the Laughing Tree fueled much of it, the king appearing even more unhinged as the knight continues to evade detection. A number of increasingly absurd theories have already begun to spread. The actual jousting has taken a backseat to this drama, it seems. Lyanna, however is content for the day to watch famed knights duke it out. It’s a nice distraction, from Brandon’s increasingly tense mood as the tourney draws to a close, from Robert’s attention, from the Prince’s increased presence in her mind, and a small worry that she will be found out as the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

Robert had sat himself next to her at the beginning of the day, and clumsily complimented her dress. It was a soft grey thing, nothing special, but Lyanna likes the way it matches the shades of grey in her eyes. Robert thought the same. Maybe she was being too harsh on the Baratheon, she thinks as Ser Baristan Selmy rides past to prepare for the final joust. Robert was trying so pathetically hard to please her, and her brothers were growing tired of her antics. She could not help it, she knew what a life with Robert would be like. There would be no love for her, no matter what pleasantries Robert throws her way. Lyanna wanted excitement, love, an adventure, and she saw all that mirrored back at her in the eyes of the prince. But that was foolish. 

She looks over her shoulder to where the Princess Elia was sitting with her brother Oberyn. Their conversation running over in her head like a riddle Lyanna must unravel to fully understand. Everything Lyanna thought she knew about the Dornish princess told stories of a delicate lady, constantly berated by the king. Yet the woman appeared to be all fire. A gentle confidence that intimidated Lyanna. Beautifully vibrant eyes disguising her true intentions, almost as cryptic as the prince. Elia was far more beautiful then any story Lyanna heard of her had given her credit for. All day her gaze had wandered away from the jousting to linger on the princess’ profile. Soft black curls wrapped around her head, turning to joke with her brother from time to time.

“Where are you today, Lyanna?” Benjen comes from her left and she turns to face him. “You seem a million miles away.”

“It’s just been a long week, and I could not sleep well last night. I think I’m growing weary of tents.” Lyanna lies and does her best to smile her best courtly smile. Benjen eyes her skeptically but accepts her answer. Lyanna sighs deeply, wishing that this final joust would begin and end so she could rest before the final feast, back in her tent where no one expected anything of her. 

“Look, Lyanna! They’ve finally going to begin.” Robert plants his hand on her knee to get her attention. It feels presumptuous and Lyanna does not like it one bit. She pulls his hand off and places his hand back on his own leg.

“I see, Robert. Who’s your pick to win?” Lyanna says, catching Brandon’s glare from Robert’s other side.

“The prince, of course. A kings guard man could not unhorse his own prince.” Robert laughs, a little too loudly. Lyanna glances around knowing that’s not something you just blurt out. 

“I think Ser Baristan has more than a fair chance.” Brandon chimes in. Lyanna takes this opportunity to tone them out and focuses on the prince on the far side of the jousting arena in his impressive and elaborate armour. 

Rhaegar looks right out of a song, and the foolish girl in Lyanna swoons. He must be like the rest of them, men playing games and politics with the lives of their men and wombs of their women, Lyanna knew that deep down. But he showed her that maybe he was maybe different on their few chance meetings. He should have brought her to his father once he realized she was the knight, but he didn’t. And the way he looked at her sometimes, he made her believe that there could have been love there. 

The prince faces off against the knight and a hush falls over the crowd in anticipation. Lyanna peers over the stand, hoping for a closer look as the two horses gallop towards each other. In one fell swoop, the prince unseats Ser Baristan. Lyanna feels herself join in with the cheers. Robert huffs.

“See? It’s not a fair fight. Rhaegar had to win.” He throws his arms up.

“Just have fun with it, Robert!” Lyanna responds, annoyed. She wishes to simply enjoy the excitement of the joust.

Rhaegar leads his horse around the grounds for a quick victory lap. When he removes his helmet, his long silver locks flows behind him. Lyanna watches as if in a trance. The prince picks up the crown for the queen of love and beauty, a crown of delicately laced blue winter roses. He holds it precariously as he rides towards the stands. 

Lyanna looks over at Princess Elia, a small tinge of jealousy flares in her stomach. The princess will be crowned of course, as is custom. Elia turns to meet Lyanna’s gaze, very quick and only for a moment but Lyanna catches it. A small smile crosses the princess’ face and disappears just as quickly, returning to a cool and collected neutral. Lyanna looks back out, confused. To her dismay, and excitement, Rhaegar is standing in front of her, placing the crown of winter roses on her lap, before looking back to the prince.

“Lady Lyanna, I pronounce you Queen of Love and Beauty.” Rhaegar says calm and steady. His gaze unwavering from Lyanna. They feel frozen in time, looking to each other with a crown and a lance between them. Then, the crowd is in an uproar, whispers coming from all sides, Robert laughs out while Lyanna hears Brandon swearing awful things. It all feels far now, as Lyanna looks forward eyes fixated on the prince, stunned as everyone’s eyes are on her.


	9. Maiden

A tradition of these tourneys is a party for all the ladies in attendance. It’s usually supposed to be a celebration of the Queen of Love and Beauty, however tonight it has turned into a night of scandal and rumour. Lyanna hides out on a balcony off the corridor where the night’s festivities are taking place. She can’t face any of the women in that room, most of them friends or allies of Elia. The princess has been much better at casual pleasantries all week, bonding with every lady. Lyanna was off scheming with her brother, so she was already at a disadvantage. 

She didn’t do anything, to the casual viewer. It was Rhaegar who dishonoured her and her house, but of course the woman was always at fault. She had to have done something wrong to cause the prince to stray. And of course she did, but no one really knew that. She has been avoiding Robert and her brothers since the tourney, since they didn’t believe her when she said nothing had happened. And she was never good at lying, but even if she were nothing could quell Brandon’s anger.

She takes a sip of the wine she’s been drinking, sneaking into the back of the hall to grab some every time her glass is empty. The rest of the evening she has spent on this balcony, looking out at the field below. There’s one nice thing about Harrenhal being so absurdly large, that she has so many places to hide out. This being her third glass of wine, her vision has begun to be a bit fuzzy around the edges. She could go back to her tent and hide it out, however Brandon would surely trap her in there to listen to his ranting and raving. 

“Lady Lyanna, I thought I’d find you hiding somewhere around here.” The princess’ Dornish drawl approaches from behind her. Lyanna’s heart leaps into her throat, nerves still on edge despite the wine’s feeble attempts at numbing. She turns slowly to look at Elia. The princess is dressed in a gorgeous gown, skin-tight – likely deliberate, to show the ever-present baby bump growing. She looked the part of wronged wife, graceful and elegant.

“Your grace,” Lyanna says nervously, unsure of why the princess would be seeking her out. She had every right to be seething. “I’m so sorry about this afternoon, I did not know – you must understand.” She began frantically, unsure of what or how she would explain.

“Don’t apologize, dear Lyanna.” Elia says as she approaches and stands next to Lyanna at the railing, looking out across the grounds of Harrenhal. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it? Not as lovely as your gown though. It was a tragedy to see you sat next to the stag at dinner.”

“It’s certainly been eventful, your grace.” Lyanna turns to look at Elia, who has not single trace or anger or embarrassment across her face. “I’m sorry, Elia, but what happened today –”

“Rhaegar loves his grand gestures and statements, I’m afraid.” Elia sighs, taking a sip of her wine. “He needed a way to let your brother and Robert know what he knows. You know?” She smiles through her eyelashes at Lyanna with the edge of her wine glass still pressed to her lips. Lyanna looks down, unsure of why the gesture makes her blush. 

“You knew?” Lyanna whispers, not wanting to attract the attention of any stray party go-ers, but it all feels a thousand miles away right now.

“Of course, I did, Lyanna. You think Rhaegar does anything without my leave?” Elia laughs, and Lyanna’s stomach lurches. Her numerous meetings with the prince run through her mind before she can stop them. 

“I don’t understand, your grace. I embarrassed you! Shamed you!” Lyanna begins, but Elia just waves her off. 

“The lords and ladies of Westeros already think me some sad lost Dornish girl, what’s one more slight? What matters is that Rhaegar will sit the Iron Throne one day soon, and me beside him. Then our son will be king after him.” Elia nudges in closer to Lyanna and drops her voice. “That’s all thanks to you, Lyanna. If Rhaegar had called a council and the North stood against him, we would be at war.” 

“He told you?” Lyanna whispers softly back, not believing what she was hearing. Was she unknowingly put into some plan at the stake of her reputation and relationship with her family. 

“I just said Rhaegar doesn’t do anything without my leave. I would put embarrassing me in front of our lords on that list.” Elia continues slowly, “I was a princess before I married Rhaegar, do you think I’d leave all that to become a quiet showpiece for the Targaryens?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Lyanna did not know Elia well, but of what she did know from immediate contact pointed to a very capable and logical lady. 

“It’s more beneficial for me if all these silly lords thought so, anyways. Soon enough, Rhaegar’s father will be gone and things will be better then. As long as your brothers stay in line.” She smiles into her glass. Lyanna stands awestruck, she could have never imagined this week would accumulate in this conversation. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I think it’s important that you know, Lyanna.” She moves in to brush a wayward hair out of Lyanna’s eyes, staring softly yet with an intensity which makes Lyanna want to look down, away, anywhere. But she doesn’t. She feels frozen in time and place again. 

“My brother and betrothed conspired against your husband, your husband crowned me Queen of Love and Beauty over you. You should hate me.” Lyanna whispers.

“There are bigger things coming that will need my energy. And besides, look at your eyes.” Elia smiles softly, “No person in all of Westeros could hate those eyes.” Lyanna finally has the strength to look down and move back away from the princess, a familiar rush of red creeps up her cheeks. 

“I do mean it when I say I hate seeing you with that stag, Lyanna. Robert? He’s a brute like any man.” Elia continues speaking in a hushed tone, sneaking a glance at the balcony entrance to ensure no one is approaching. “If you ever find yourself near Dragonstone, I could find you a much better match.” Lyanna laughs, assuming it’s a joke. No lady has ever spoken with such a degree of agency, Lyanna very much admires it.

“I wouldn’t say every man is a brute. Surely, you see something in Rhaegar if he was worth leaving Dorne over.” Lyanna tries to shift the focus of conversation away from herself, and selfishly curious about the princess’ dynamic with the prince. Elia laughs at this and takes another sip of her wine before continuing.

“That’s a long conversation, for another time. Men are means to ends, Lyanna.” Elia whispers, “I have always felt that ladies were much better company, besides.” She leans into Lyanna again and that same energy returns to the pit of her stomach. The princess continues to be an ever-confusing entity in Lyanna’s presence. 

“It is easier to figure out a man’s intention. On the other hand, I cannot figure out what you want from me, your grace.” Lyanna whispers back, not moving away from the princess. 

“That’s the way you have to be in Westeros, I’m afraid.” Elia says, her hand wandering slowly to brush against Lyanna’s in such a way that Lyanna wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. Lyanna just nods in response. The air between them tense, Lyanna’s mind racing at a million miles a minute. 

“You should go rejoin the party, your grace. There’s no way someone hasn’t already noticed your absence.” Lyanna whispers stepping back towards the balcony. Elia watches her step back, her eyes dancing in the moonlight. 

“I suppose you’re right. Although I am enjoying your company, Lyanna.” Elia says.

“If anyone saw you with me, that’d be the biggest scandal of a week of scandals.” Lyanna laughs, “Besides, I should find Brandon, try to calm him.”

“Lyanna, listen. Calm your brother, convince him and Robert out of their plans. Please, for all our sakes, for peace in the realm.” Elia grabs Lyanna’s hand before leaving, meeting her gaze with intensity again, this time with none of the softness from before.

“You assume I have more sway than I do, Elia. I can’t even convince them not to have me marry a man I despise.” Lyanna whispers back, glancing at the door once more. 

“You must try, Lyanna. Please.” Elia says before kissing her on the cheek and leaving her on the balcony. Lyanna turns back to look out, stunned.

It was bad enough to have begun to long for the prince when she didn’t know the princess. Now she feels trapped in her feelings, her contradicting, confusing feelings that never stop long enough for her to really figure out what she wants. The wine that was a pleasant numbness has turned to pounding in her ears, denying her the clarity she wishes she had in this moment to process all that Elia revealed to her. Conversations with Elia felt like a puzzle she would never beat the princess at. Lyanna downs the rest of her wine and after a few minutes, turns to return to her tent, avoiding the party and its many onlookers.


	10. King

The day following the joust between Rhaegar and Berristan Selmy, Lyanna walks briskly through the castle looking for an empty room to escape to. She can’t take all the attention on her in the hall or on the grounds. Apparently, the ladies of Winterfell didn’t get it all out of their system at the feast last night. Even in her tent she is bombarded with the anger and accusations of Brandon. Lyanna keeps walking through the winding halls further than she dare go under different circumstances. Right now she wants to be alone until she decides to come out. Peering into one door, she finds what looks like an abandoned study and slides silently in. 

The room is covered in decades of dust, a small bench sits under the window. Lyanna wipes it off with the sleeve of her dress before sitting down to look out at the moonlit sky. She curls into a ball on the seat and thinks maybe if she imagines Winterfell hard enough, she’ll be transported home. When she opens her eyes, she’s still in the dusty room suddenly burdened with a whole kingdom’s problems. 

“I thought I could find you somewhere around here, if I knew how to look.” The melodic voice of the prince comes from the entrance way and sure enough, there he is standing as tall and proud as ever with his harp in hand. 

“This castle is too large for us to keep running into each other by chance. What do you want?” Lyanna says, “The whole kingdom thinks me a whore. My brothers are furious, and for what?”

“I do owe you an explanation. That is certain. But motives become clear with time.” Rhaegar crosses the room and sits on the other end of the bench under the window. He looks to her, his eyes almost pleading.

“Why did you crown me, Rhaegar?”

“The Knight of the Laughing Tree could have won that tourney. Honestly, Baristan should have, but that wasn’t the plan. But I could not crown myself. My father saw to that. And you, Lyanna, so beautiful in your dress next to that brute Lord Baratheon. I crowned the true winner of this tourney.” Rhaegar studies her face intently and reaches out to hold her hand in his. 

“Rhaegar, none of this is right.” Lyanna chokes on a tear. 

“What isn’t right is my father’s madness plunging this kingdom with him, or your brothers pulling you into a plan to marry you off to a would-be usurper.” Rhaegar scoots forward on the bench, dust lifting as he does so. Lyanna stays frozen in her spot.

“I never should have said anything. I’m just a stupid girl.” Lyanna says, and Rhaegar brings a hand up to her cheek and forces her to meet his eyes.

“You saved us from war with the north, Lyanna. You saved me.” He smiles and Lyanna feels compelled to match it. Rhaegar then pulls her face in to his and kisses her softly on the lips. Her heart skips, as she timidly matches his movements. Then, her brain finally catching up with her body, she pulls away.

“Rhaegar, we mustn’t!”

“I just want to do something because it feels good, because I want. Not because my family says it will fulfil a role I was born into.” Rhaegar interrupts her, still holding her cheek. His melancholic eyes seem to be endless pits Lyanna would be fine to get lost in. 

“I want that too, but we’re not people who get to want things.” Lyanna pleads but does not move. She leans in, taking in the soft scent of the prince’s hair.

“I am the king or will be one day soon. What I want will be, and I want you, Lyanna.” Rhaegar kisses her again.

Lyanna sinks into the movement and pulls Rhaegar in closer. His hand travels down from her hair to caress her delicately behind her head, holding her in place. She allows her hands to let go of his in her lap and move to wrap around his shoulders. Rhaegar pulls them up to standing, not moving his lips from hers for more than a second. Lyanna lets herself be led from the bench towards a large desk. Rhaegar pushes her against it and stops to look down at her. His eyes, usually only filled with despair, have a new fiery tinge to them. Lyanna’s certain that lust and desire is mirrored back in her own. They hold each other’s gaze, before Rhaegar’s hand is back in her hair, leaning into the kiss. 

“Rhaegar, someone could walk in, someone could be listening.” Lyanna pushes back slightly, trying not to let her desire get the best of her. 

“No one will, trust me.” Rhaegar drops his chin slightly to leave a trail of kisses down her neck. Lyanna loses herself to the sensation for a moment. It’s all so new and exciting.

“What about your wife? Wouldn’t she care? Did you not embarrass her enough?” Lyanna whispers, hating herself for not putting a stop to this. 

“I know Elia better than anyone, don’t worry Lyanna. Trust me.” Rhaegar breathes onto her neck before standing back up to meet her eyes. “Did she not speak to you at the feast last night?” Lyanna looks at him confused, not realizing they had discussed her, but of course they had.

“I don’t understand.”

“You will soon enough, dear Lyanna. Trust me.” He says, pulling her in so they’re touching foreheads. Lyanna closes her eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of the prince so close to her, still so forbidden. The guilt finally wins out and she pulls back. Rhaegar sighs. 

“This is wrong, I feel wrong.” Lyanna whispers, “I gave Robert so much shit for his flirting with girls and here I am, kissing you.”

“Love is irrational.” Rhaegar says, turning to sit next to her on the desk. “That’s why it only makes sense in songs.”

“Will you write a song for me, then? A song where we can make sense?” Lyanna leans her head against his shoulder.

“I would do anything for you, Lady Lyanna.” Rhaegar whispers. 

“Write me that song, and I’ll sing it to myself when I’m in Storm’s End, living my boring life as a lady.” Lyanna stands, and Rhaegar catches her hand, holding it ever so gently in his own. 

“You don't have to be a lady in Storm's End. You could be a queen.”

“I don’t want to be his queen.” Lyanna whispers, “He would make a terrible king. You are the king, not him.”

“One day, thanks to you.” Rhaegar says, and pulls her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She breathes him in for a moment, lingering in the impossibility of it all. They stand there for a moment staring at each other when footsteps approaching cause Lyanna to frantically separate from the prince. She gathers herself on the opposite end of the room, trying to look like she wasn’t just kissing him. Rhaegar looks calmly towards the door as his wife walks through.


	11. Wife

Elia walks in, as calm, cool and calculated as ever. Lyanna’s heart is in her chest, still excited from the kiss with Rhaegar and now anxious from the intrusion of the princess. Elia walks over to Rhaegar and stands next to him without a word. Rhaegar observes his wife calmly. Lyanna waits with bated breath for one of them to begin speaking.

“Hello Lyanna. You look beautiful today.” Elia says coyly, Lyanna opens her mouth and quickly closes it again, her brain racing to find the right thing to say.

“We owe her an explanation.” Rhaegar whispers into his wife’s ear, but loud enough for Lyanna to hear. Elia turns to face him.

“You didn’t tell her? You just got right to kissing, did you?” Elia says, “Can’t trust men with anything. Isn’t that right, Lyanna? She smiles at Lyanna, that same, unreadable look as always.

“I –”

“I already told you you’re no good at lying, dear Lyanna. But don’t panic, we are not your enemy.” Elia walks up to her, her deep brown eyes unwavering. “Do you trust me?”

“I’m not sure, Elia. What do you want?” Lyanna whispers, looking past her to Rhaegar who is watching them both inquisitively. 

“The dragon has three heads.” He says matter-of-factly, as if that’s supposed to mean something to Lyanna. She looks back to Elia, confused. 

“What do you know of prophecy, Lyanna.” Elia whispers, brushing a strand of Lyanna’s hair behind her hair, mirroring the movements of her husband minutes earlier. Lyanna meets her eyes, finding a familiar heat there. 

“Prophecies are just another song.” Lyanna whispers, still holding Elia’s gaze. The longing that had grown while she kissed the prince was slowly returning despite Lyanna’s attempts to keep steady. 

“There are somethings we don’t understand, Lyanna. Our song involves the prince that was promised. And I think you have a role to play. I am the blood of old Valyria, Elia is of Dorne, the kingdom that evaded us Targaryens for so long. You are the north. Together we could accomplish peace.” Rhaegar says from behind them. Elia wraps her hand around Lyanna’s, interlocking their fingers. She moves in and kisses Lyanna softly on the lips. 

Lyanna’s breath catches, and she takes a few steps back, unsure of what to make of this. She had felt so guilty for her feelings for the prince, feeling that she had been betraying the princess in some way. Had Elia been in on Rhaegar’s actions the whole time?

“Your grace, I – I don’t understand.” Lyanna whispers, not moving her hand still entwined with the princess’.

“We must marry the men our parents tell us to marry, and we never get to explore anything beyond that. Are you not curious?” Elia whispers, “Us women have more to offer than just that.” Elia smiles at her, and Lyanna nods back. 

“What are you curious about, Elia?” Lyanna whispers back, ever aware that Rhaegar is sitting back on the table, watching the two of them. 

“You, dear Lyanna. You distracted my husband so much this week but then again, I could not blame him. We both feel our paths were meant to cross this week. As you are of the north, you may be the missing piece from our puzzle.” Elia steps forward again into Lyanna’s space. 

“Elia?” Lyanna whispers, as the princess pulls her in for another kiss. Lyanna is taken aback by the forwardness but is not against the action. Her mind whirls with a million question, for Elia and Rhaegar alike. She pulls away from the kiss sooner than she would have liked and looks to Rhaegar in confusion. He only looks down at his harp, stroking a quiet tune.

“Elia, you said men who marry for the ambitions of their fathers do not love their wives. And Rhaegar, you told me you did not love your wife. What are you playing at?” Lyanna says, “Is this all for prophecy? For a song?”

“For love, Lyanna. You said yourself love is irrational.” Rhaegar says. “That it only makes sense in songs.” He stands and walks over to the two women.

“Rhaegar and I have a deal, dear Lyanna. Our union is not one of love or lust, that may be true. But we both have ambitions of our own. We have shared interests, and you just happen to be one of them.” Elia says. Rhaegar reaches out to Lyanna, holding her hand as Elia continues to stroke her hair. She can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“Do you love me, Lyanna?” Rhaegar whispers into her ear, she leans into him despite herself craving the contact from before. 

“I don’t know you, Prince. I could love you. But we are not people who get to do things for love.” Lyanna says, and then finally breaks out from the couple. The rational part of her brain finally catching up.

“Lyanna, please.” Elia begins.

“No! I don’t want to be a part of your plan, or your prophecy!” Lyanna feels the tears threatening to spill but steadies herself. “You tricked me, Rhaegar. You embarrassed me, and your wife! In front of everyone! This is fucked.” Lyanna shakes her head.

“Lyanna, I want us to be together.” Rhaegar whispers, trying to get closer to her again but Lyanna walks backwards, holding her ground. 

“You lied to me, you don’t love me, you want me to play a part in your fucking harem. I betrayed my brother and father for you, I dishonoured Robert, and for what?” Lyanna’s voice shakes slightly, “I’m so stupid, I’m just a stupid girl.” She looks from Rhaegar to Elia, who both look sullen, unsure of what to say. This only made her angrier. 

“Lyanna that is not true. You are wiser than all of them for recognizing the folly of their plans.” Elia says firmly. “They’ve treated you so poorly, to make you marry Lord Baratheon.”

“No, I’m done. I will go marry Robert Baratheon and be a proper lady. No more adventures for me.” Lyanna says, and Rhaegar quickly crosses the room to block her path out of the room. His lean figure presses back against her.

“Is that what you want, Lady Lyanna?” He says, looking down at her.

“I don’t get to want things, Rhaegar.” She says, holding up a hand to his hair and running her hands through a loose strand. “I already wanted and took too much.”

“Stay for one more song, Lyanna. Please.” Elia says and nods her head towards Rhaegar’s harp. “Before you decide to forget us.”

Rhaegar goes to pick up the harp, and begins to strum a slow, sad tune. Lyanna nods in silent surrender and goes to sit next to Elia, who tentatively wraps her arm around her. There’s a tenderness in the scene, despite Lyanna’s apprehension. It feels nice, and safe. After the week she’s had, it’s comforting. The royal couple so sure in themselves and each other, Lyanna finds herself believing the riddles they come up with.


	12. Sister

“I’m still not sure about leaving you here, sister.” Brandon says, for the hundredth time that day. “I wish Father would see my way.”

“Well Father’s not here, and you’re not him. He instructed me to stay at Harrenhal with the Whents.” Lyanna says, wishing her brother would hurry off to his betrothed and leave her be. Her father had made a deal with the Whents to have her stay at the castle until Brandon’s wedding, when she’s to meet her family at Riverrun. Another part of his absurd plan. Lyanna thinks of Elia’s request, and how impossible it will be to dissuade Brandon or Robert from Harrenhal. 

“I will write Father from Riverrun and tell him of what happened at this tourney. He will surely agree with me then.” Brandon continues as he ties a pack to his saddle. Lyanna rolls her eyes. Truthfully, she’s excited for the freedom fostering at Harrenhal will provide her. It’s much preferable to going to the Vale with Ned and Robert, which was Brandon’s plan for her.

“Father doesn’t intent to keep me cooped up in the North, or the Vale. You know that.” Lyanna says.

“Don’t be cheeky, Lya.” Brandon says, using her childhood nickname. She glances at him and sees how exhausted he looks. Maybe Lyanna isn’t the only Stark who’s had to grow up fast on this trip.

“I’m sorry Brandon. I know I gave you a hard time this week.” Lyanna pushes towards his horse, helping to tie one last bag to his saddle. Brandon just nods, his courtly poker face back on. “You look stressed, brother. Is this plan with Robert worth this? You could be lord of Winterfell. Surely Rhaegar on the throne wouldn’t be as bad as his father.” Brandon scoffs at this, and nudges Lyanna aside so he can mount his horse.

“I don’t want the north to be subject to these Dragon Kings’ madness any longer. Surely you can understand that.”

“Rhaegar’s not mad.” Lyanna says before she can stop herself. Brandon narrows his eyes at her in confused anger. 

“Why do you defend him? Surely you know that little stunt of his didn’t mean anything? He used you, to anger the north, to send a message.” Brandon practically spits his words out.

“And that makes him mad?” Lyanna, feeling brave, challenges her brother. 

“Try to think of the North and our family first for once. And don’t look at me like that! You’re being foolish.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to see you and Father go to war over a throne you won’t even sit. If you want to declare an independent North, do it. Why do I have to marry a Southern lord of your choosing to make it happen?” Lyanna, despite feeling small next to Brandon on his horse, feels her last chance to convince him out of the plan slipping away.

“I’ve had enough of your foolishness. Surely you can’t be so naïve. There’s no way for Northern independence without war. That’s why we need Southern allies.” Brandon hops off his horse to whisper, careful and calculated.

“But why him, Bran?”

“Because it must be. I’m sorry, Lyanna.” Brandon, for a moment, looks genuinely apologetic. He moves away from her and looks to the stables, where Ned and Robert are leading their horses. “Be good dear sister.” He whispers before leading his horse towards them.

“Ready, boys?” Brandon says in greeting, as Lyanna reluctantly walks up beside him, giving Robert a courteous nod. He smiles back. 

“My lady, I wish you were accompanying us back to the Vale. Your beauty would be a much welcome distraction from the long journey back. I hope to prove a worthy enough man to marry you, Lyanna.” Robert says, looking down uncharacteristically awkward. Lyanna glances to Brandon before responding.

“That is kind of you to say, my lord, but I should be the one to prove myself worthy.” Lyanna says, aware that Brandon is within earshot and staring her down. Robert smiles at this and reaches out to kiss her hand. “I’m sorry if the prince’s maneuver shamed you.” She adds quickly, addressing the elephant in the room. 

“I found it an amusing gesture, if a little inconvenient.” Robert shrugs. “It’s your brother who was so offended. But Rhaegar was right, you are the queen of love and beauty.” Lyanna looks down, unable to stop the rose tine from creeping up her cheeks. 

Robert thinks he’s flattering her, not that she’s feeling a deep, deep shame. She’s decided that her last meeting with Rhaegar never happened, that’s what’s easiest. It was only a kiss and a song and yet the Prince’s soft lips and sweet melody linger on the edges of her mind since she left him and Elia alone the night before.

“That is kind of you to say, my lord. But we will be reunited soon enough, at Brandon’s wedding.” Lyanna responds flatly. She feels Brandon let go of a breath next to her.

“Where’s Ben? Isn’t he leaving with you?” Lyanna looks around, unsure of where her younger brother had gotten to.

“He and Howland are apparently staying.” Ned sighs, “They say they wish to explore the South a little more.”

“I’d say the little crannogman wants to explore Ashara Dayne a little more.” Robert laughs, looking over to Ned, waiting for him to join in his laughter. Lyanna simply rolls her eyes. 

“Good luck on your travels, my brothers, Lord Robert. Now, I am off to find Benjen.” Lyanna says before turning back towards the castle.

“Lyanna!” Brandon calls out “Remember what I said! All of it!” Lyanna turns back to meet her eldest brother’s intimidating gaze. She can only nod. 

“Of course, dear brother.” She calls back, although he is like out of earshot. She is left alone in the courtyard. Men and horses pass around her as the tourney comes to a close. She turns and walks back to the castle to inquire Lady Whent about her new accommodations. 

There’s a feeling in her chest she can identify as longing, if she really let herself think about it she knows she feels something for the prince, whether it occurred after his first song or their kiss she did not know. He was gentle with her, kind, and his cryptic melancholy had planted itself in her brain. Elia lingered there too, the gentle princess she doesn’t quite know and the fierce women who stole a kiss, now taking up her own grounds in Lyanna’s thoughts. She know the best thing for her family would be to do her best to leave it all behind and focus on her future with Robert, no matter how much she despises it. What she knows she wants is entirely different, and she can’t shake the feeling that the full impact of what she has done here hasn’t been felt yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This was originally where I was going to end this little chapter of Lyanna's life, but I hit some inspiration so get ready for a part two where we learn more about Elia and Rhaegar's motives and where Lyanna ends up during Robert's Rebellion. So I'll probably have to rename this fic to reflect that but watch this space for more of Lyanna's adventures!!


	13. Laughing Tree

**PART TWO**

The castle feels larger than ever in the silence that follows most of the tourney attendees’ departures. Lyanna keeps an eye out of her new window’s view over the courtyard, watching as Westeros’ banners march out. There are a few stragglers along with herself and her brother. Right now, the last of the Targaryen banners are just leaving her eyeline. Her heart regrets not seeking Rhaegar and Elia out for one last goodbye, but her brain won that battle. She’s playing smart now. She promised Brandon that much. A creak of the door interrupts her melancholy, and she sits up abruptly. 

“Lya? It’s me.” Benjen says as she pushes the door forward. “Me and Howland are heading to Winterfell tomorrow morning, wanted to find you for one last dinner.”

“Ben! Come in, I’m just watching the parade of banners. Come look, it’s a fabric sea.” She smiles as her brother crosses the room to join her on the bench by the window.

“The Stark banners must be long gone.” He says, peering out the glass.

“Of course, Brandon left as early as was respectfully possible.” Lyanna laughs.

“I’m surprised he left you behind, Lya. I’ve never seen him so furious. I thought he’d force you to go to the Vale.”

“You know he tried, but Father promised the Whents.” Lyanna sighs, “Of course no one asked me what I want.”

“Why was Brandon so angry? You didn’t do anything wrong; it was all the prince.” Benjen looks to her confused, He didn’t know their father’s full plan, so of course he didn’t realize the full implications of Rhaegar’s gesture.

“Rhaegar knew about the Knight of the Laughing Tree. He saw me grab the helmet.” Lyanna whispers. Benjen’s jaw drops, he was never good at hiding his emotions, shock painted over his boyish face. 

“What?”

“He knew I unseated those knights. So, he recognized me as the true winner of the tourney. That’s all.” Lyanna says, knowing this half story may not be enough. 

“That doesn’t make sense. Why go through all that scandal for a jousting match?” Benjen says, clearly smarter than Lyanna was hoping for. 

“I don’t know. But now Brandon doesn’t trust me.” Lyanna says, frustrated. Benjen looks at her confused, clearly not buying it. 

“Lya, what are you not telling me?” He says, turning away from the window, his voice hushed and tense. 

“Rhaegar helped me find the helmet and kept my secret from the king. That’s all.” Lyanna avoids her brother’s eye. 

“That’s not all.” Benjen insists. 

“Ben!” Lyanna sighs in frustration. Benjen keeps his eyes on her. She runs a hand through her hair anxiously. “We – we kissed.”

“Lyanna!” Benjen exclaims excitingly and Lyanna frantically hushes him. 

“You cannot tell me a single soul, not even Howland!” Lyanna holds her brother’s hands desperately. “Promise me, Ben.”

“I promise, Lyanna. Not a soul.” Benjen whispers. “I just can’t believe it. Prince Rhaegar? Father would freak out! You really were trying to stress Bran to death this week.”

“Shut up, Ben.” Lyanna playfully shoves him. “I just wasn’t thinking, but I am now. I’m going to be good now.”

Benjen eyes her skeptically but doesn’t try to debate her any longer. They both turn back to look out the window in a comfortable silence for a couple moments. The only remnants of the tourney are horse tracks and abandoned bits of tarp and rope. The servants of Harrenhal already moving in to clean out the courtyard.

“Where is Howland? I’ve hardly seen him since the final feast.” Lyanna asks, not looking away from the window.

“He is smitten with Ashara. It’s become quite intolerable to be frank. He will be lamenting all the way back to Winterfell.” Benjen says dramatically, rolling his eyes while he turns away from the window.

“I think it’s sweet, Ben. He was so quiet and shy at the beginning of the week.” Lyanna turns to stand up, pulling her brother up with her. “Let’s go find him, I wish to share one last meal with our beloved crannogman.” Lyanna walks up to the door and turns to see if he is following. He reluctantly stands back up and joins her. 

“What aren’t you telling me, Lya?” Benjen says in a hushed tone as he approaches the door.

“I’ve told you everything there is to know. Why Rhaegar crowned me as the Queen of Love and Beauty, everything.” Lyanna insists. Maybe if she begins to believe the lie, he will too. She holds his questioning gaze unblinkingly. He finally looks away and walks briskly out the door.


	14. The First Letter

**Two months after the tourney**

_Dear Lyanna,_

_I hear that you remain at Harrenhal, as a companion to the Lady Shella and her daughter. I hope the castle does not loom too large or silent in the absence of Rhaegar’s harp. I was saddened when I did not see you one last time. Every moment in your presence proves more exciting than the last. I know we upset you with our riddles, but all things in good time will be clear._

_I think of you often, Lyanna. Do you think of our stolen kisses at all? Perhaps I am foolish. Do you think of Rhaegar? I know he thinks of you. Thoughts are loud on Dragonstone, but thankfully they don’t reach the ears of the king. He is still crazed by the Knight of the Laughing Tree. Rhaegar received a letter last week, ordering him to return to King’s Landing and help in the search. Since I am heavy with child and my son will be here soon, I insisted he stay with me for the last months of my pregnancy, so we bought our friend some more time. I know that my son will bring with him the peace we so desire._

_I pray for your safety, dear Lyanna. Do you remember my last request? I hope you have been successful, even if you and your brothers are so far. You must write to him, tell him the stag he so admires is full of folly. Wolves should be free, my dear._

_Ever yours in admiration,_

_Elia Martell_

Lyanna rereads the letter for the hundredth time. It was irresponsible and risky for Elia to have sent it. What if someone had intercepted it? Elia wouldn’t have risked it if she didn’t have a good reason to send. She recognized the warning about the king but didn’t know what she should do. She was alone here in Harrenhal after her brother’s departure back north. Lady Whent was proving to be bland company, but Lyanna has been trying to be a good lady-in-waiting. She still didn’t feel at home here. Sitting at her desk as the last of the day’s light disappeared, she turned the letter over. A small raven which delivered the letter hops around her windowsill impatiently.

“Does she want a reply?” Lyanna asks the little bird, which only continues to chirp quietly.

Lyanna slinks back in her chair, feeling exhausted, yet her mind wanders to her last moments with the princess. As Rhaegar played his harp for them, Lyanna had rested her head against Elia’s shoulder and the other woman ran her hand through her hair. The intimate gesture cemented itself in Lyanna’s brain, offering distractions during the crawling hours at Harrenhal. Elia may have been the last person to show her such affection. Sure, Rhaegar admired her and made that admiration known. But he felt wild, possessive, where Elia was a calming balm to his chaos. As much as Lyanna was intimidated by the pair, she missed them dearly.

“I promised Bran that I’d be good.” Lyanna whispers again. The raven shakes out its wings. “But when the princess writes you a letter, the lady-like thing to do is to reply.” She smiles to herself as she pulls some parchment out of the desk. Delicately, she lights the candle on her desk. Thinking for a moment, she tries to figure out where to start her letter.

_Dear Elia,_

_What a lovely surprise and honour it is to hear from the princess. Your letter is most heartwarming in these frigid halls. I pray to the old gods for our Knight friend, and that any direct threats may come with warning. I thank you for your thoughts as well. I think of you more than I feel is responsible. Of you and Rhaegar. I can’t say I understand your arrangement but the two of you dance around my brain day and night._

_I wish to have been able to say goodbye the day you left but I was trying to be good for my brother, to appease him. I try to appeal to his logic, but it appears to have left him. In our last conversation before he left, he insisted that marrying Robert was the only option. I will write him and try again, I promise you. I hope I don’t fail you, dear Elia. I pray for you and your son; may he be healthy and strong._

Lyanna ponders how to sign off her letter. She didn’t want to appear any more or less invested in the princess than she had appeared. Elia had said she was ever hers, which made her heart flutter. How should she respond? Lyanna may have spent equal time on the letter and on the sign off. She finally decides,

_Yours truly, Lyanna Stark_

Lyanna reads the letter over and over again, making sure it seemed as harmless as possible, although she admits to herself that it is still quite incriminating if the wrong person should come across it. She decides it’s worth the risk, especially in the care of this smaller raven which doesn’t look like one that belongs to any Maester Lyanna knows. She hands the letter off to the bird and it flies off through her open window and Lyanna watches it slowly disappear over the horizon.


	15. The Second Letter

Four months after the tourney

_Dear Lyanna,_

_I am so pleased to receive your response. I too have been thinking of you more than is responsible. My thoughts should be with my husband, my daughter, the arrival of my son. Yet you have carved out your own part of my brain for yourself. I wish you could be here in Dragonstone with us, but that would truly be irresponsible. If I invited the Queen of Love and Beauty to my home, the ladies of Kings Landing wouldn’t know what to make of it._

_I’m sorry the Whents are such dry company. As they are so loyal to my husband, I should not speak poorly of them, but Lady Shella is such a stern lady. Our Oswell has some jokes about her, but I do not dare copy them here!_

_Lyanna, things are getting tense in our part of the kingdom. The king grows angrier day by day, writing letters to Rhaegar and sending messenger after messenger to bring him into the search for the Knight. He is still by my side, awaiting the birth of our son. Once he is here, I am concerned Rhaegar will have no reason to deny his father. Lyanna, please be careful. I believe you are safe at Harrenhal for now, but the situation is tense. I truly wish to be able to have you here and under my protection, so I don’t worry myself over you._

_My pregnancy has taken a turn, and I spend most days abed. If only I had to strength to truly stand up against the king. He wouldn’t dare treat me or Rhaegar the way he did when we were in the capital or the way he does now. It is truly maddening to know the king has no one to hold him back. Honestly dear Lyanna, I fear for us all. I pray for your safety as I pray for my son’s safe entrance into this world. Rhaegar sends his love, and I send my own as well._

_Lovingly,_

_Elia_

Lyanna reads the second letter she received from the princess under candlelight at her desk. It was late in the night, the rest of Harrenhal long asleep. The little raven is back, hopping around her windowsill. Lyanna feeds it some seeds she has stored in her room for midnight snacks, or birds in this case. It sings a little song in thanks and Lyanna hushes it quietly, hoping the walls were thick enough to hide the bird’s melody. The last months at Harrenhal have bene incredibly lonely. The only true companionship Lyanna experienced had been Elia’s first letter, which she read and reread until the page became worn. Lady Whent was kind but cold, and her daughter too young to have anything in common with Lyanna. “I wish I could fly back to Dragonstone with you, little bird.” Lyanna whispers to the raven, which had moved to the desk in search of more seeds.

Her loneliness wasn’t helped by the fact that her letters to her brothers only received cold replies. Benjen was still on the road with Howland, taking a long way home to Winterfell. Her father told her as much, along with voicing his disapproval of the events at the Tourney as described to him by Brandon. Brandon’s own correspondence with her was short and icy. She had crafted what she thought was a convincing letter telling him their plans were foolish and they should stick to themselves in the North. His response was only that she was naïve and childish and that he would entertain no further letters of this sort.

“Well I must reply, musn’t I?” Lyanna says to the raven, glad to have a recipient of her inner monologue. The bird tilts its head slightly, blinking its large black eyes at her. She pulls out a piece of parchment out of her desk, excitement bubbling in her stomach.

_Dear Elia,_

_The last few months have been very lonely in this absurdly large castle. It’s hard to believe so much excitement happened here mere months ago. I too wish to visit you at Dragonstone, but if that were to happen my father and brother would be absolutely infuriated with me. I tried to write to Brandon, but he only became more cross with me. He thinks I’m just a foolish girl._

_I’m sorry to hear you are feeling unwell. Women just have to go through the worst to create life, don’t we? I pray for your health and the health of your son. I just realized I do not know when he is expected, if it is before this letter arrives or before I receive a response then I will wish you a smooth and healthy birth. I heed your warning about the king, I am nervous he will lash out at you and Rhaegar if you continue to defy him. Please do not put yourselves at risk on the account of the Knight. Surely it is not worth your trouble._

_Give Rhaegar my love, and the rest of my love is for you._

_Truly yours,_

_Lyanna_


	16. The Third Letter

Six months after the tourney

_Dear Lyanna,  
Our knight is in danger. The Laughing Tree continues to haunt the king in his madness. Rhaegar feels that he is beyond all help. He must be dealt with soon. Be safe, dear Lyanna, don’t leave Harrenhal unguarded as the king’s madness reaches far. I continue to pray for you.  
My son will be here any day now. He pains me daily, and I’m afraid my body has weakened since our last encounter, and it has worsened since my last letter. It’ll all be worth it when he arrives. It warms my heart knowing you think of us. Rhaegar read your last letter, I hope you don’t mind us sharing. He wishes to write to you as well. So, I will leave you here.  
Truly yours,  
Elia _

_Lyanna my dearest,  
It has been six months since I last saw your beautiful grey eyes and I fear I may go mad if I never see them again. I do not know what you see me as, but I do love you.  
My father has sent men looking for the Knight. They do not know his true identity, but his advisors are close. Stay alert, dear Lyanna. I am doing my best to keep him away from the truth but it’s hard from Dragonstone. Do not fear, if things become worse, I will be sure to warn our Knight friend.  
My wife, my dear wife is unwell in the last days of her pregnancy. Elia stays strong but it has been a long process for us to endure. She already told me this may be the last child she can have, although we should wait for what the maesters say after the birth. It’s been greatly upsetting for us both, but we pray for the safe arrival of our son and for Elia’s recovery.  
We think of you often and talk of you just as often. Elia’s quite taken with you, but who can blame her. I know our kisses linger in my head, and I believe she draws her strength from those memories as well.  
Elia instructed me to keep this letter coded and it seems I have failed. But I will be king, and I shall write to whomever I like.  
Lovingly yours,  
Rhaegar ___

__Lyanna reads over the letter in the Whents main hall over her morning meal. She’s taken to sleeping in and breaking her fast much later than the rest of the household. Lady Whent has stopped pretending to enjoy her company, still feeling like her daughter’s tourney was scandalized by Rhaegar’s gesture. So Lyanna was left largely to her own devices, which quickly became a dull affair. She can’t help but smile as she read the letter which was the most exciting thing to happen to her since the arrival of the last, aware the household men around her can see._ _

__“Lady Lyanna, the Lady Whent invites you to dine in her solar with her tonight.” A small awkward serving girl says to her barely looking up from the plates she was clearing._ _

__“Oh, thank you. Tell her I’ll be there, and I look forward to it greatly.” Lyanna looks up from her cup of tea, long cooled as she sat rereading and rereading the letter._ _

__“No need to thank me.” The girl whispers before running off. Lyanna crosses her brow at the odd behaviour. No one really pays her any mind here. She hasn’t been creating any Southern connections like her father wanted. She’s mostly kept to herself. Lyanna stands up, collecting the letter to get ready for another boring day. As she runs out of the hall, she runs right into the Maester._ _

__“Oh, Lady Stark. I was just looking for you. This just came for you. I believe it’s quite urgent, a rider hand delivered it but would not say who it was from. Quite rude, actually.” The Maester says. Lyanna could not remember his name, but he always talked on and on if he weren’t stopped._ _

__“Thank you, Maester.” Lyanna says grabbing the scroll and dismissing him with a curt nod. Her stomach in knots, hoping for another letter form the prince and princess so soon._ _

___Dear Lyanna,_  
_The king knows who the Knight is. He has sent notice to the Whents and men to collect you. Run, my dearest, I will meet you at the Inn at the Crossroads with my own men. Tell no one. Leave today._  
_Rhaegar_ __


	17. Inn

Lyanna approaches the inn from the far side from Harrenhal, having looped around to take a winding cul-de-sac approach out of paranoia. After having received the last-minute letter from Rhaegar, she had run to her room as fast as possible without arousing suspicion. She packed as many of her belongings that would fit in a single bag. She didn’t know how far she’d have to go once reunited with Rhaegar and didn’t wish to be weighed down by unnecessary baggage. She resigned herself that only three gowns would have to be enough, plus the riding pants, which would be easiest to travel in. She had wrapped herself in her coat, detailed with a direwolf fastener. The weather has recently turned cold again. The spring promised during the tourney a mere falsehood. 

If the Whents were notified by the king to hold onto to hold her until his men came, it would be no use to leave them instructions to send word to Brandon or her father. She’ll have to send word later, once she’s safe with Rhaegar. Once her stuff was packed and she snuck away to stables to get her horse, Lyanna was off. There was less than one hour from receiving the letter and her departure. Hopefully, no one would notice her absence until she didn’t show up for dinner with Lady Whent. 

Looking down from a small hill at the inn ahead, Lyanna is hit with a sudden wave of nerves. Her entire escape felt practical and removed, the emotions of it only now catching up with her. She’ll finally be seeing Rhaegar again. Not under the most desirable circumstances for sure but the promise was there all the same. She dismounts her horse outside the inn, unsure if she should go in and wait or hide out and see if Rhaegar approaches. Just as she’s wrestling with this dilemma, a small, thin boyish man approaches her, limping slightly as if from injury. 

“Forgive me, my lady. Might you be Lady Lyanna of house Stark?” The man says, and Lyanna turns to meet his eyes. Cold and grey, her holds her gaze only faltering to glance down at the pin holding her coat together. The sharp features of his face deep set against old bruising, further defined by a hollowness equal parts unsettling and suspicious. 

“Who are you?” Lyanna responds coldly, not wanting to be in conversation with this stranger longer than she has to. 

“No one of great importance, my lady. I only ask because I recently saw your brother, Brandon, at Riverrun. I can imagine he’d be concerned to find out his sister is alone on the road.” The man says, smiling in such a way that only his mouth seems to move. His eyes maintaining their hollow demeanor. 

“I wouldn’t concern yourself with my brother, stranger, if I were you.” Lyanna attempts to walk away towards the stable, but the boy kept pace with her. 

“I’m afraid I’ve already learned that lesson the hard way.” The man chuckles.

“Then maybe you should apply that lesson to all Starks.” Lyanna says, stopping just before the entrance to the stables, not wanting to be cornered by the stranger. “You still haven’t told me your name.”

“Petyr Baelish, Lady Lyanna. I was good friends with your brother’s betrothed. Her sister as well. Catelyn Tully.” Petyr says. If he picks up on Lyanna’s discomfort, he’s not taking the hint. “Allow me to take your horse in, you must be exhausted, riding all afternoon.” 

“I’m quite capable of taking care of my own horse, Baelish. Good day.” Lyanna nods curtly, hoping this strange boy has the curtesy to leave. Suddenly, a group of riders approach and Lyanna’s stomach lurches, seeing the Targaryen colours flying on their single banner, but not knowing if they were Aerys or Rhaegar’s men. As if reading her change in expression, Petyr turns to look at the newcomers. 

“What might the king’s men be doing here?” Petyr asks. Lyanna only scowls at him in response. “Well Lady Lyanna, I’ve taken up enough of your time. I wish you well on your travels. Give my best to your brother.” Petyr bows as he walks back in the direction of the Inn’s main building. Lyanna turns her attention back to the riders. As they came closer, Lyanna sighs in relief when she makes out Rhaegar’s blonde layers. She mounts her horse again and takes off towards him. 

“Lyanna!” He cries out as they both speed up to meet each other faster. 

“Rhaegar!” She responds, smiling despite herself. Before she knows it, they’re both climbing off their horses and meeting in an embrace, Rhaegar spinning her off the ground in excitement. Lyanna can’t help but giggle as he does so. 

He places her delicately on the ground. Only letting go of her after kissing her softly on her forehead. The rest of his party catches up, one of the riders folding the Targeryen banner up into his saddle bag as they approach. Lyanna looks around at the group, Sers Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent were the most recognizable, the two others she didn’t know. 

“Did anyone see you?” Arthur Dayne asks sternly, looking ahead towards the inn. Lyanna glances behind her in the same direction. The man from earlier, Petyr, disappeared from her line of vision.

“Some boy, Petyr Baelish, he was talking to me. Would not leave me alone.” Lyanna says. 

“Do you know him?” Arthur asks in the same tone, but he addresses his question to Oswell who has ridden to stand next to him. 

“Baelish, they’re from The Fingers. But I don’t know the man.” Oswell responds. Lyanna turns to look at Rhaegar again who’s still looking at her with only adoration in his eyes. She looks down, taken aback, not used to such attention. After months of being mostly ignored at Harrenhal, this new surge of emotions is welcomed, desired even. 

“It’s probably nothing of note then. But we must get going.” Arthur Dayne says. “Your grace, we can all catch up once we set up camp this evening.” He turns his horse away from the inn and begins in the other direction. The other follow suit, and Lyanna swings back on her horse and rides next to Rhaegar, who grabs her hand gently in his own and gives it a squeeze before the group heads off away from the inn.


	18. Camp

Their small crew sticks to the backroads, as Rhaegar says his father’s men would be on the kingsroad. Arthur Dayne, Oswell Whent, and the other members of Rhagar’s household guard who accompanied them from Dragonstone were all more or less kind to Lyanna, if a little reserved and distant. The sun was going down, and Lyanna’s eyelids felt extraordinarily heavy. The morning at Harrenhal feels like a hundred years ago now. 

“Rhaegar, when will we stop?” Lyanna asks as they ride. He peers over to her, a small smile appearing on his face. It’s also adding to Lyanna’s stress that she cannot touch him. They’ve been riding so fast, there’s been hardly any chance to even speak.

“We will have too stay hidden, dear Lyanna. Once we find a good clearing we will rest.” Rhaegar says, “And we can talk more.”

“I will have first watch, your grace.” Arthur says matter-of-factly. Rhaegar nods appreciatively. 

“I’m sorry you had to leave Dragonstone on my account.” Lyanna says, looking down at her home sheepishly. 

“Don’t be silly, Lyanna. You needed me. I could not have let mey father find you.” Rhaegar says, his face stern again. 

“Your grace! We’re losing light. We should stop here for the night.” Oswell says as they approach him in a small clearing in the trees. Their tall branches creating a small canopy in the woods, as if a makeshift cave of leaves.

Rhaegar dismounts and looks around the clearing. He goes back to his house and pulls his harp out of his saddlebag. Sitting on a rock, he plays a soft tune as their accompanying knights lay out bedrolls on the ground and plan out guard shifts for the night. Lyanna dismounts and stands around awkwardly, realizing she did not pack any bedroll, not prepared to sleep outdoors.

“I have a bedroll here for you, my lady.” Arthur Dayne says, “Rhaegar made sure we packed an extra for you.” Lyanna takes it from the knight and smiles. She looks over to Rhaegar, his soft voice filling the clearing. Lyanna realizes she’s missed his voice; he holds her gaze as he sings. 

“Rhaegar, we’re trying to be in hiding.” Oswell says exasperated. “We don’t need everyone this side of the trident to hear you.” Lyanna was taken aback by his casualness but supposed that the king and Whent must be close friends more so than king and guard. Rhaegar puts his harp down, standing up. 

“Lyanna, take a walk with me?” He says, moving towards her. Lyanna nods, taking his offered hand and the pair head off towards the trees. 

“Don’t go too far. We still need to guard you.” Oswell calls after them. 

Once they pass a few layers of trees, Rhaegar pulls her in and kisses her. She meets him gently, lingering in his closeness for a moment. He looks down at her longingly.

“Rhaegar I missed you.” She whispers, pulling her hand up to his cheek. “I was so lonely at Harrenhal, thank you for saving me.”

“Don’t thank me until we’re truly out of harm way.” Rhaegar whispers back. Both aware that their guards were only steps away. Lyanna leans in for another kiss and Rhaegar complies willingly. They stay for a moment, breathing each other in before pulling away slightly. 

“How is Elia? In her last letter, she said she was due soon.” Lyanna says, wishing the princess was with them now. 

“She is recovering, the pregnancy took its toll but both she and our son Aegon made it through.” Rhaegar says before looking away solemnly. “She cannot have any more children. The maester confirmed it just before I left.” 

“I’m sorry to have caused you to leave Elia so soon often the birth of your son.” Lyanan moves away, her minds rapt with guilt.

“Elia told me to go. She said we’d never forgive ourselves if you were captured.” Rhaegar says, interlacing her fingers with his own. His eyes earnestly locked on her. “She was right of course, she always is.” 

“You do love her. You said you didn’t, but you do.” Lyanna says, Rhaegar tilts his head slightly. 

“In away, I suppose I do. Our lives were woven together by our families marrying us.” Rhaegar leads Lyanna to sit on a nearby tree stump. “And initially I thought I could grow to love Elia. But the truth is, she could never truly love me.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Have you seen you?” Lyanna says looking at Rhaegar, moving a strand of hair out of his face. 

“It’s true, Lyanna. But it’s not just me. It’s any man. Did you not know? She said she told you.” Rhaegar looks at her bemused. Lyanna steps back, going through limited interactions with the princess. At the tourney she had mentioned men were means to ends, but Lyanna thought she was merely speaking in riddles like she does. But then they kissed and Lyanna stopped thinking about it. Lyanna turns red at the memory and Rhaegar chuckles.

“I just wanted to kiss you both.” Lyanna says under her breath. “I didn’t think too much about it.” Rhaegar laughs out at this, his melodic voice rising and falling.

“I think we all were taken by surprise, you, me, Elia.” He delicately grabs her waist and pulls her back towards him.

“Now we’re here.” Lyanna whispers, her face mere millimetres away from Rhaegar’s. Looking up at him, she knows her fear is painted across her face.

“Don’t worry yourself, dear Lyanna. I’ll keep you safe.” Rhaegar leans down to kiss her once more. Lyanna surrenders to the feeling, allowing the tension bubbling in the pit of her stomach to rise up and consume her. Her hands wrap around the back of Rhaegar’s neck and rest in the blonde waves she finds there. Rhaegar responds by pulling her impossibly closer, his hands wander from her waist lower to cup her through her riding pants. As he pushes a thigh between her legs, a small gasp escapes her as he presses on her rising pressure. Lyanna feels him smiling as she continues to press her tongue against his. 

“Rhaegar!” Oswell’s voice carries from their camp. “Lyanna! Please get back here, it’s getting dark. I don’t want to have to come find you when it is.”

Lyanna pulls away as Rhaegar sighs, looking sadly off in the trees. She brings a hand to his cheek and pulls him to look back at her. She rises up to give him one last peck, before pulling him by the hand and leading him back to the clearing.   



	19. Boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay wow this is a chapter i found in my drafts that I entirely forgot to post, it happens before they get on the boat to Dragonstone. My apologies for forgetting about it, upon revision I realized that going from chapter 18 Camp to chapter 19 Cabin was kinda jumpy and couldn't figure out why, and this is why, I forgot a chapter the actual chapter 19! rip, hope you still enjoy!

It took a few days to reach the coast, and Lyanna had a hard time finding sleep when she lay her head down on the rough ground. Rhaegar’s always close, but almost teasingly close as she cannot kiss or touch him in all the ways she wants to in front of his men. Arthur and Orwell picked up on that tension and tease them mercilessly, but Lyanna enjoys their company. They were funny, and reminded her of her brothers in a way. 

Lyanna also feels guilty. She hasn’t thought of Robert Baratheon this whole trip, driving the stag entirely out of her mind. Only when her mind wanders to Ned in the Vale, that Robert appears. Word will eventually reach her father, Brandon, the whole kingdom, of her role as the Knight of the Laughing Tree and escape from the king. Lyanna just hopes she can write her family before anyone other than the king and the Whents notice her absence. 

“There’s a ship waiting for us at Rook’s Rest. We’ll be at Dragonstone soon enough.” Rhaegar says as the group presses on. 

“Will we be safe at Dragonstone? Won’t that be the first place your father looks?” Lyanna says somewhat skeptically.

“We’ll only be these for a moment. I wish to see Elia and my children. Then I’ll take you somewhere safe.” Rhaegar smiles confidently at her. Lyanna only nods nervously, and their horses continue towards the small port at Rook’s Rest. Their plan seems flimsy at best, and Lyanna feels like the king’s men are waiting for them at every turn. That her family still didn’t know of any of this, only adds to her unease. 

“You looked troubled, my lady.” Arthur says, riding up next to her. Rhaegar had moved up to discuss something with Oswell while she was lost in thought.

“Thank you for your concern, Ser. I am alright. The sooner I can send word to my father, the more at ease I’ll be.”

“Of course, my lady. We should be at Dragonstone within a fortnight.” Arthur says, uncharacteristically warmly. As Lyanna got to know Arthur as the stern one, keeping Oswell and the rest in line. His rigid sense of duty both impressed and intimidated Lyanna. 

“Please, ser. Call me Lyanna.” She said, for the hundredth time during their travels. Arthur chuckles.

“Forgive me, Lyanna. Court habits die hard for knights like me.” Arthur turns his attention forward, where Rhaegar and Oswell ride a few steps ahead of them. The late-afternoon sun beats down on their group. Lyanna’s still not used to the southern heat and finds herself homesick for the cold air of the North. Despite promises of winter returning, the South was still a foreign land of warmth to her. 

Their group stops at the edge of a small hill which swoops down towards a modest castle, on it’s left is an even more modest dock with a single ship at bay. Lyanna turns to look at Rhaegar, who’s already looking at her with his signature blend of fire and melancholy. 

“We’re almost there, dear Lyanna.” He says, smiling finally. 

“Yes, and you both can finally stop eye-fucking each other.” Oswell pushes past them on his horse as Lyanna’s jaw drops and Arthur chuckles, muttering about the proper way to address a lady. 

“How long will we be on the ship for?” Lyanna asks. Nerves getting the better of her, she has never bene aboard a ship before. 

“We should be at Dragonstone by the morning. Fear not, dear Lyanna.” Rhaegar smiles at her across their horses. Lyanna nods nervously. They lead their horses towards the dock. A small man stands outside the boat, awaiting their arrival.

“Rhagar, who is that?” Lyanna asks as their horses approach the ship. 

“A loyal man. House Stauton has always helped House Targaryen in times of need.” Rhaegar says, his focus ahead on the ship before them. 

“Symond is your father’s man.” Arthur says, “His son may not be trustworthy.”

“Sons are not their fathers, Arthur. And I trust that Aeron is loyal to me.” Rhaegar responds sternly. The newcomer, Aeron Stauton comes to greet them. He is a young man, of age with Rhaegar. 

“Your grace. I’m glad to see your journey was successful.” He says, bowing before the prince. Rhaegar gets off his horse and pulls the other man into a hug. 

“Aeron! Thank you! It’s good to see you. The wife is well, I hope?” Rhaegar says casually, as though they were more friends reuniting than king and subject.

“Rhaegar. We can catch up on board. Let’s go. Stauton, you can steer this thing in the dark?” Oswell asks, as he rides his horse up the ramp onto a small ship.

“Of course, Ser. Been going back and forth between here and Dragonstone my whole life.” Aeron says, still maintaining his warm demeanor. 

Oswell nods approvingly, although Lyanna catches him exchange a look with Arthur. She follows the group up into the ship, as the last of the day’s light sinks behind the horizon.


	20. Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update is so late, some personal stuff arose and this fell to the way side. but hope you enjoy, some light smut to make up for the delay!
> 
> I'll try to update a chapter a week from now on, if you're still following along, thank you!

Lyanna lays back on the only bed abord the ship, in a small captain’s cabin that had been insisted upon her by Aeron Stauton. It feels lovely to have something warm and soft to sink into. The men are still on deck, discussing some business or another, perhaps next steps once they must leave Dragonstone. Lyanna closes her eyes, thinking of her father and Benjen so far away in the North. Brandon would be furious once he finds out what she’s done, perhaps her betrothal to Robert will be broken. That feels inevitable now. She can no longer deny that she has fallen for Rhaegar, in all his sincerity and melancholy. Selfishly, she hopes Rhaegar will join her in the cabin instead of stay with his men, but the night’s still young. 

The odd man she encountered at the Inn at the Crossroads suddenly enters her mind. Petyr Baelish. Who was this stranger who claimed to know her brother? He looked recently injured, perhaps gravely. Could Brandon have done such a thing? Evidently, there were things going on at Riverrun that Lyanna was not privy to. She would have to write Brandon and soon. His temper never seemed so volatile as it had been proving to be lately.

A knock at the door interrupts her thoughts and Rhaegar’s figure enter the room. The single candle lighting the room casting long shadows against the walls. Lyanna sits up and meet his eyes. 

“My apologies, Lyanna. I only wished to see to it that my men were well off for the night.” Rhaegar walks to the opposite sides of the bed and sits. Lyanna, already changed into one of the nightgowns she had packed, feels the vulnerable contrast to Rhaegar still in his riding gear. Instinctively, she pulls the fur up to her shoulders. 

“No need to apologize. I am glad to have time to think.” Lyanna shifts on the bed to make space for him. 

“What thoughts trouble my love?” He reaches out and holds her hand softly between his.

“Just my brothers, I worry they will be upset with me. I have been quite foolish.” Lyanna whispers, voicing her concerns aloud feels like tempting fate, but there’s little she wouldn’t agree to with Rhaegar’s indigo eyes piercing her own. 

“We will write them once at Dragonstone. Send ravens to Winterfell and Riverrun alike. Don’t worry, dear Lyanna.” Rhaegar rises to standing and begins to shed layers of clothing, leaving only his pants and soft grey tunic. Lyanna can’t help watching as he approaches again, this time sitting so their faces are close, his one hand wrapped over her legs. “You’re safe now.” Rhaegar moves to kiss her forehead. Lyanna’s heart lurches out of her chest at the comforting gesture. 

Lyanna brings a hand up to his cheek and smiles softly at him, nodding despite her apprehension. She does feel safe with him. Rhaegar returns the smile, and sinks further into the bed, lifting one leg over her to straddle and pin her against the pillows. Her breath catches, and she holds his gaze, sitting in the tension building. 

“Rhaegar –” 

“Let me please you, Lyanna. Please, my love.” He interrupts her, lowering himself to kiss her deeply. “I’ve been dreaming of your touch, of you, since we met.”

He sounds almost desperate, whispering words of adoration into her mouth between kisses. Lyanna lifts her hands to wrap in his hair, feeling the soft layers fall through her fingers. She scrapes his roots slightly, feeling him shudder underneath her. She smiles into the kiss as his hands move to lift up her nightgown. 

“I’m a maiden, dear Rhaegar. If I lose that on this trip too my father will truly lose his mind.” Lyanna whispers, and Rhaegar’s hands stop dead in their tracks. He sighs in frustration, lowering forehead to balance against hers. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want, Lyanna. But we can still please each other without losing your maidenhead.” Rhaegar whispers. He collapses to her side on the bed, one hand lifts to run a curl of her hair between his fingers. 

Lyanna turns to look at him, before bridging the gap between them, meeting his lips with her own. “Show me,” She whispers back, the longing that’s grown in her stomach since their reunion unignorable now. Rhaegar responds by pulling her in closer, the rough fabric of his pants creating friction against her legs as they become entangled in their ever-growing passion for each other. Rhaegar whispers her name softly into their kiss. His hands temporarily move away from her to fumble with the ties of his pants. He quickly rids of them and throws them off the bed. He slowly crawls over Lyanna, looking down at Lyanna with pure adoration that almost overwhelms her. 

“Rhaegar.” She says breathlessly, holding his face between her hands, wanting this moment to last, for all the dangers outside the walls to melt away. Rhaegar responds by pulling her nightgown over her head. Suddenly completely vulnerable in front of him. Lyanna finds that she is not frightened of it, merely wanting to see more of him as he sees of her.

As if reading her thoughts, he pulls his tunic over his head. Lyanna pulls him back down into a kiss, a small moan escaping her as his hands press gently against her bare breast. One hand lowers over her torso to rest just above her mound. Opening her eyes, she finds Rhaegar staring down at her. His hand remaining on the outside of her smallclothes teasingly. She mirrors his movements, taking him through his smallclothes, to his, and her, surprise. 

Rhaegar moves to pull her smallclothes off and his just as quickly. Lyanna barely has time to process his movements before his hand is back to where it was. His fingers move slowly through her folds and Lyanna loses herself to the feeling. Collecting her focus, she lifts a hand to his now revealed and fully erect length. She strokes him as he does the same. Her breath increases in intensity and need, and he kisses her as though she is the sole producer of the oxygen he needs.

They meet their climaxes at the same time, panting desperation into each other. Lyanna never felt anything like this before, the peaks of pleasure causing her to cry out as Rhaegar tries to catch them with his tongue. As the waves subside, Lyanna looks up at Rhaegar in bliss, in disbelief, the world they’ve escape from can’t touch them here.


	21. Arrival

The sun had long since set when their ship docked at Dragonstone. Lyanna stood on the deck as the ship approached, Rhaegar holding onto her hand as the castle looms over. Her stomach was in knots, still reeling from the things she and Rhaegar had done on their trip over. She definitely crossed over to a point of no return. If her father knew, oh she’s really in for it when they’re reunited.

“Come, your grace.” Arthur Dayne says as he heads towards the ramp. Rhaegar leads Lyanna down the ramp, passing Aeron Staunton holding their horses off to some castle stable boys.

“Thank you, Lord Staunton, for your help.” Lyanna says, “And your discretion.”

“Of course, my lady.” Aeron says in return. Lyanna still apprehensive of the man, knowing Oswell and Arthur were as well. As much as she loves Rhaegar, he seems not to consider the minute details of their plans, and Oswell and Arthur have been pulling them along the way. He was only concerned with her, speaking to her, and kissing her. Lyanna wishes for the security of their bed last night. 

“Where is Elia?” Rhaegar asks the first serving girl who greets them at the door. The girl takes his cloak as he hands it off quickly. 

“Still abed, your grace. The babe is with her now.” The girl says, eyeing Lyanna nervously. 

“Thank you, Rosyn. Go find Alyse and prepare the supplies for our departure.” He says with a sense of urgency. 

Rhaegar pulls Lyanna’s hand towards a grand staircase. She glances back to see Arthur Dayne and Oswell speaking to the serving girl. She turns back to take in the grandeur of the castle, the stone walls make it feel like it should be cold, but the fiery reds of Targaryen tapestries warm it up. 

“Rhaegar, do you want me to come see Elia? Do you not want a moment alone? I must write to my family.” Lyanna says as they walk down one looping hall after another, staircases winding up a tower. 

"Elia would want to see you immediately, and she can help write the letter." Rhaegar says before stopping in front of a door and knocking gently. A gentle voice answers to come in. Rhaegar opens the door and lets Lyanna in front of him. 

“Lyanna! Rhaegar!” Elia says from the bed, her long black falling messily past her shoulders. In her arms is a small baby, blonde strands of hair mirroring those of her father. “You made it!”

“I promised we would come back to you.” Rhaegar says as he crosses the room and kisses her on the forehead. Elia smiles up at him and hands off the baby to him. “Aegon missed his father, such a fussy baby.” Elia laughs, turning to smile at Lyanna. She takes in her appearance, Elia looks tired, her face hollowed slightly since Lyanna last saw her. Despite the weight loss, Elia still had that gentle fire in her eyes. 

“Elia,” Lyanna whispers nervously.

“Lyanna, my dear.” Please come site with me. “Elia says, flattening the sheets on the bed next to her. Lyanna obliges and sits on the bed, her eyes fixed on Elia, only broken by the baby’s cries. Elia turns to reach for him. 

“I’ll let you two catch up and be on baby duty.” Rhaegar smiles down at them. “Is Rhaenys in her room?” Elia nods appreciatively as Rhaegar leaves the room, both women watch him go. 

“He has his moments.” Elia chuckles. 

“How are you feeling, Elia? In your last letter you sounded so troubled.” Lyanna says, instinctively reaching out to grasp Elia’s hand. Elia squeezes appreciatively.

“Better now, that I get to see you again.” Elia smiles. 

“Elia, I must write to my family. Explain everything. If the wrong story reaches them first, I fear Brandon may be impulsive.” Lyanna says, the stress apparent in her tone. She knows her absence must be noted by now. It’s been at least a week since she was at the Inn at the Crossroads.

“Of course, dear Lyanna. There’s parchment in the desk by the window.” Elia says, running a hand over Lyanna’s cheek comfortingly. “Can I kiss you first?” Lyanna nods, a small nervous grin appearing as Elia moves forward to kiss her chastely. 

“I missed you, Elia. I was so lonely, sometimes your letters felt like my only comfort.” Lyanna blushes as she admits it. Elia keeps her hand on Lyanna’s cheek, sighing sympathetically. 

“You’re here now.”

“But I can’t stay here. The king’s men will come looking for me here eventually.” Lyanna looks away sadly then stands up and grabs a parchment off the desk.

“I arranged a tower in Dorne to be ready for you and Rhaegar. He’ll take you there on the morrow.” Elia says, straightening up in the bed. Lyanna looks up at her in shock. “When I am strong enough to travel again, I will join you with the children.”

“This is your plan?”

“Of course it is, Lyanna. With Rhaegar it’s all songs and prophecies and it’s my job to find the substance in those songs and turn them into plans.” Elia says matter-of-factly.

“Thank you, Elia.” Lyanna says breathlessly, not believing the princess would be this invested in her. “I wish I could spend more time with you before I have to leave again.”

“Me too, Lyanna, me too. The last few months have been so tough on me.” Elia sighs, and Lyanna returns to the bed, reaching out to bring Elia into a hug where she’s sitting up in bed. Lyanna rests her chin on the other woman’s head. 

“At least your son is here and healthy, and you as well.” Lyanna whispers. “I was so worried at Harrenhall and felt so helpless.” Lyanna moves to sit on the bed next to Elia, whose deep brown eyes are softened and teary. A new vulnerability contrasting the invisible shield of the Dornish princess. 

“I can’t have anymore children. I’m too weak.” Elia’s voice breaks, Lyanna reaches out and wipes tears from Elia’s cheek. “I failed, Lyanna, I failed.”

“Failed? Elia, that’s ridiculous. You have two beautiful children, and you survived. You’re stronger than most.” Lyanna says, not understanding this sudden break. 

“There has to be three. There has to and I can’t.” Elia cries into Lyanna’s lap, as she strokes the princess’ hair in comfort.

“The dragon has three heads.” Lyanna whispers, remembering the odd statement Rhaegar had said at Harrenhal. Elia shoots back up to sitting and looks at Lyanna, a hint of her fire returning. “The dragon is your children?”

Elia nods slowly, wiping tears from her face. “Yes, dear Lyanna. Aegon is the prince that was promised. And Rhaenys, but there must be one more. A daughter, Visenya.”

“But you can’t have one more.” Lyanna whispers, not entirely understanding the prophecy. Elia looks away, as if searching for words before gingerly getting up to stand. Lyanna moves to support her as her delicate legs buckles slightly. 

“Oh, Lyanna! I’m so tired of being weak, I tried to have the children Rhaegar wants, but I’m too weak.” She leans into Lyanna, her arms gripping her waist for support. Their height difference allowing for Elia to res her head just on Lyanna’s shoulder. 

“You’re not weak, Elia. Some women, they don’t even survive childbirth.”

“He sang such pretty songs of prophecy and peace, and it could be my children who fulfilled it! What if I’m the reason it fails?” Elia says, as though voicing a deep-seeded fear for her first time. 

“Prophecy or not, that’s too much pressure for any one person. The dragon has three heads? That doesn’t mean they all have to be your children. There are other Targaryens in the world.” Lyanna whispers into Elia’s hair, holding her in an embrace that was equal parts intimacy and required to keep Elia on her feet. 

“Rhaegar says it must be his children.”

“Rhaegar could be wrong.”


	22. Stone

A while later, Elia is asleep in the bed. Rhaegar next to her holding the baby Aegon while Rhaenys, only two, plays with a doll at the foot of the bed. Lyanna sits at the desk, finishing her letters to her family, and can’t help but feel like she’s intruding on a familial moment she is not a part of. She looks back down at her letters. Frantic script detailing explanations of her actions. She knows Brandon and her father will be furious, her betrothal to Robert likely put to an end. She can’t see him taking this insult lightly at all.

“Lyanna, are your letters finished?” Rhaegar says, “Come, I’ll take them to the maester to send to Winterfell and Riverrun right away.” He stands from the bed and offers Aegon to Lyanna. She takes him hesitantly in her arms, uneasy around children. “Stay with Elia, I’ll be back.”

Lyanna nods and positions herself in bed next to Elia, who stirs slightly at the movement. Rhaenys looks at her inquisitively but returns to her doll soon enough. Lyanna looks down at Aegon. His small indigo eyes looking back at her. Does the weight of prophecy fall on shoulders as heavily it does for his mother? There’s so much Targeryen in him, only soft olive skin demarcates any Dornish lineage. Lyanna wonders what her own children would look like. She never dared think of it when marrying Robert was a real possibility. Now, with everything so uncertain, she wonders. 

“Lyanna?” Elia whispers, turning over so that she’s laying on her side. Lyanna turns to her, brushing a loose hair out of her face. “Thank you, for earlier. I haven’t been myself lately.”

“Elia, of course. We all forget how strong we are sometimes.” Lyanna whispers, not wanting to disturb the baby.

“He likes you.” Elia smiles at Aegon. “You’re a part of the family now.” Lyanna’s heart warms at this, and she lowers her head to kiss Elia softly on the forehead. 

“That’s very sweet, Elia.” 

“I was thinking. Or dreaming perhaps.” Elia shifts over to lean her head on Lyanna’s shoulder. Rhaenys looks up at her mother and crawls up the bed to cuddle against her. “Oh, hi my dearest.” Rhaenys smile shyly behind her doll.

“What were you dreaming of?”

“The prophecy. Rhaegar believes it must be his children, but maybe it doesn’t have to be mine.” Elia whispers softly, hesitation clear in every word. “Maybe it could be yours?” Lyanna looks over to Elia in shock, not sure if she was being true.

“Any child of mine and Rhaegar’s would be a bastard, they would have no power, no legitimacy. It would dishonour my entire house.” Lyanna shakes her head in disbelief.

“Not necessarily,” Elia shrugs, running a hand through Rhaenys’ hair. Before she can continue, the door opens and a handmaiden enters, taken aback by the presence of Lyanna in the bed.

“Sorry, your grace. I came to take Rhaenys and Ageon to break their fast.” The handmaiden lowers her eyeline to the floor as she speaks. 

“I’ll keep Aegon with me, thank you, Rosyn. I feel up to breast feeding today.” Elia sits up, delicately taking Aegon from Lyanna’s arms. “Rhaenys! Go eat with Rosyn!” She addresses her daughter who springs from the bed and runs out of the room, leaving Rosyn to turn and run after her. Elia turns her focus back to Lyanna, sighing deeply. 

“How familiar are you with Targaryen history, Lyanna?”

“I know what I can remember from my lessons with the maesters.” Lyanna shrugs, not knowing where Elia was heading. 

“Do you know of Maegor Targaryen? The last Targaryen to take multiple wives.” Elia whispers, “There’s a precedent for this type of thing. You could marry.”

“Maegor the Cruel?” Lyanna scoffs, “Was he not exiled by his own father for taking a second wife?” Elia lets out a small laugh.

“It was his brother, Aenys, who exiled him. His brother was scared by the faith and succumbed to the pressure, that’s what the histories say.” Elia says, as if reciting from memory. “But Maegor returned, and took another wife.” 

“Surely you aren’t suggesting that I marry Rhaegar?” Lyanna laughs in disbelief. “First, my father would never agree to it –”

“Sweet, naïve Lyanna. Things have changed beyond repair. Your father will not believe even the tamest of versions of your escape from Harrenhal. Chances are several stories have already reached him. Yours will just be one. You must now decide what is best for yourself.” Elia regarded her with sad eyes, and Lyanna’s stomach drops.

“Rhaegar should have brought me home, to Winterfell. I could have explained everything.” Lyanna’s voice breaks over the sudden swell of tears. Her mind racing. Surely her father would believe her letters. Elia didn’t know him. Lyanna decides that she must have faith in her family to be rational. 

“Lyanna, you have to stay hidden from the king. Winterfell would be the most obvious place for you.”

“I’m so foolish, so blinded by affection for you and Rhaegar.” Lyanna whispers to herself. 

“You’re not foolish, Lyanna. Not at all, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” Rhaegar says from the doorway. “Your letters are sent, everything is going according to plan.” Lyanna turns to look at him, a wave of relief coming over her despite the anxious thoughts running through her head. 

“If you join our family, as Rhaegar’s wife, we can fulfill the prophecy. Three children, three heads.” Elia continues, “It all makes sense, Rhaegar’s the king, I come from Dorne and you from the North. We connect the kingdoms.”

“But you’re Rhaegar’s wife in the eyes of the Seven, the kingdom. They wouldn’t recognize another.” Lyanna tries to argue. 

“Yes, Lyanna. Elia is my wife in front of the gods of Westeros, but you could be my wife before the old gods, the gods of the North. And my gods, and the Targaryens of old Valyria, we have many wives.” Rhaegar moves to sit on the bed next to the women. 

“That’s not how the old gods work, Rhaegar. Please, you are talking madness again! I just want to be safe, and for my family to know I am safe.”

“I will keep you safe, dear Lyanna. I will always keep you safe.” Rhaegar whispers, pulling him in towards his chest. “We must be going now, we will travel most of the day by sea.” Lyanna turns her head to look towards Elia, who is regarding her with an unusual hesitation. 

“I wish you were coming with us, Elia. It breaks my heart to leave you here.” Lyanna’s voice breaks once more, softer this time, as a tear threatens to spill over. 

“Don’t fret, I’ll be with you soon enough” Elia smiles, and kisses her gently on the forehead. Lyanna closes her eyes, willing the moment to last. She adjusts her head angle slightly, to meet Elia’s lips with her own, not wanting to leave the princess without one true kiss. It’s only interrupted by Aegon letting out a small gurgle between them. Elia giggles, and brings the baby to her breast resting just above the seam of her nightgown. 

Lyanna stands from the bed, holding Elia’s gaze as Rhaegar leads her to the door to continue on their escape.


	23. Departure

Lyanna and Rhaegar are essentially smuggled out of the castle through a back entrance that leads directly to a small dock with a single boat. A couple handmaidens were running off hurriedly as they approach. A man appears at the edge of the railing on board. 

“Everything you requested is on board, your grace.” One of the girls says, her small features accented by freckles. She curtseys and smiles at Lyanna. 

“Thank you. Now, what is the story if the king comes calling?” Rhaegar says.

“You were never here, your grace. We never saw you.” The other girl says, as if reciting from memory. She was slimmer than her counterpart but had a similar complexion. Lyanna wonders if they are sisters.

“Excellent! You may go about your duties, girls. Make sure my wife is well taken care of.” Rhaegar waltzes up the ramp of the ship. 

“A flimsy lie will not protect those girls from the king.” Arthur Dayne whispers to Oswell as they walk behind Lyanna. So quiet she isn’t sure she was supposed to hear, she turns to face them.

“Surely Elia wouldn’t let anything happen to anyone in her household.” She says sternly. “I have faith in Rhaegar.”

“Of course, Lady Lyanna. We mean no offence.” Arthur says, glancing uncomfortably at Oswell. 

Lyanna walks onto the ship’s deck, her home for the foreseeable future. She knows their final destination is somewhere in Dorne, but unsure where exactly. By sea, it’ll probably take a couple weeks. The nerves rise in her stomach when she thinks of being at sea that long, away from any form of communication. 

“Rhaegar.” Lyanna says quietly as she approaches him from behind. “Rhaegar, I’m nervous leaving Elia behind.” Rhaegar turns to face her, his face as stoic as ever. 

“She’s too weak to travel. I’m nervous too. But I have faith in her and in our plan.” He pulls her into his chest. “Nothing can stop us, Lyanna.” His sincerity and absolute confidence in himself were usually infectious and Lyanna wishes she could find that confidence in herself. 

Arthur Dayne walks up next to them, placing another pack of supplies in a growing pile. The man already aboard helps him secure it to the others. His sinewy muscles indicative of a life on the sea. Lyanna observes him hesitantly, uncertain of all the new individuals; the handmaidens, Aeron Stauton, and now this man. Any one of them could betray her to the king. The man gives her a curt nod, before heading towards the ship’s sails. 

“Rhaegar, who is that man? Whose ship is this?” Lyanna asks as the prince continues to survey the deck. 

“Joran Pyre, he’s a fisherman loyal to me. He’ll get us to Dorne.” Rhaegar looks towards her. Confident indigo meeting hesitant grey. His eyes grow softer. “Lyanna, don’t worry. I promise nothing will happen to you as long as I’m alive.”

“You promise Rhaegar? I’m worried this has spiralled out of control. I wish I could hear from my family, so I know they know I am safe.” Lyanna says, glancing around the ship.

“Of course, come Lyanna Let’s go see the cabin below. You’ll be calmer once we can lay down.” Rhaegar leads her towards a door on the far side of the ship. 

Lyanna hesitantly follows him below deck. Besides Pyre, there appears to be two other men aboard. Fishermen too, no doubt. The ship appears to be slightly older and worse for wear than the ship they took to Dragonstone. Perhaps that was better to hide from the king’s men. Rhaegar still has a hold on her hand, tethering her to the current moment and preventing her from getting lost in her anxieties. 

The cabin he leads her to is small, with a single cot in the corner. Lyanna takes in the barren appearance of the room, everything feeling cold and utilitarian in nature. She finds herself missing the warmth and familiarity of Elia’s room. She crosses the small room and sits down on the cot, it supresses under her weight, worn from years of use. 

“This is Joran’s cabin, he gave it up for you, dear Lyanna. The men and I will sleep in the other cabin.” Rhaegar says, his usual melancholy creeping back into his voice. Lyanna’s stomach sinks, unsure of this arrangement. 

“You won’t stay with me, Rhaegar?” She says, unable to mask the surprised hurt in her voice. 

“I assumed you would not want that, as I insisted upon marriage.” He says, looking up towards the small porthole in the cabin wall, showing some of the late morning light. 

“Rhaegar –” Lyanna scoffs, looking for the right words. “My feelings for you have not changed. But marrying you is folly; I am the only daughter of house Stark. Being the second wife, it would kill my father, even if it were for love.” Lyanna looks to Rhaegar, who is unmoving the entryway. 

“Even to a king?”

“My father saw me as the first wife to a king.” Lyanna says before she can think better of it. 

“A foolish plot.” It’s Rhaegar’s turn to scoff. “That Baratheon brute will come for you too, once he finds out.”

“I told my father I do not love Robert in my letter.” Lyanna says, “I told Brandon too. They cannot make me marry someone I do not love.”

“Love will not matter to them. They may still blame me.” Rhaegar says as he crosses the room to kneel before her, taking both her hands in his. “They will say I must have kidnapped you, raped you, abandoned Elia. They will not care for our love.”

“My father will believe me; he will make Brandon and Robert see reason.” Lyanna insists, trying to convince herself as much as Rhaegar. 

“They will take you away from me. Declare war on my house and marry you to Robert anyways. Can’t you see, Lyanna? We are past the point of reason, of the truth meaning anything.” Rhaegar squeezes her hands gently as his speech becomes more frantic. “Lyanna, our love is the love of songs, it will get us through it all. But I am fearful, of my mad father, of your family’s plotting. But as long as we are together, away from it all, we are all that matters.”

Lyanna searches his gaze. His words the confident candor of a prince who has never been told no. She fears the reactions of her family upon receiving her letters. She fears leaving Elia behind, but above all she fears losing Rhaegar. He introduced her to the fullness of life she’s been seeking and fears it may disappear with him.

“Let’s marry then.” Lyanna whispers. “If we marry, what’s done will be done. Nothing can stop us.”


	24. Sea

It’s been two weeks, maybe three since they left Dragonstone. The small fishing boat feeling even smaller with every passing day. They must be close to Dorne now, but sea is the only thing awaiting Lyanna when she emerges from below deck every morning. She counts herself lucky, knowing she could have spent this whole voyage sick from the sea. Her largest problem lately is boredom. 

It’s impossible to receive news at sea, and the unknowns of what will await her on shore is frightening, yet it does not serve to linger while so utterly helpless. She instead passes her time with Rhaegar and his men. The comfortable companionship becoming a constant for Lyanna, like on their initial journey from Harrenhal. 

“Lady Lyanna,” Oswell comes to sit next to her on the gentle rhythm of the sea moves the ship along. The kingsguard has warmed up to her, where Dayne still appears distant, perhaps resentful for her part in bringing his king on such a journey. 

“Ser,” Lyanna greets him in return. “Did you hear the good news? We passed Tarth during the night.”

“Is that good news?”

“Well, it’s the only news we’ve had in weeks.” Lyanna huffs. “I grow so bored I may go mad.” 

“You and the prince may do well to pass more of your time in the captain’s cabin.” Oswell laughs at his own crude joke, and Lyanna’s temper flares slightly.

“That’s very improper, Ser.” Lyanna feigns a maiden’s offence. 

“Has any part of your life since Harrenhal been proper?” Oswell retorts, Lyanna’s mask slips and she lets out a laugh despite herself.

“I suppose no, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy your jokes.” Lyanna says, turning to look behind them where Rhaegar and Arthur are sparring, both looking incredibly bored with the activity. 

“I only tease, my lady. Or, should I begin calling you your grace?” Oswell continues in the same playful tone. 

“We would need a weirwood for that.” Lyanna sighs, her eyes unwavering from her betrothed’s glistening hair.

“Rhaegar!” Oswell calls out. “Go sit with your lady love, it’s my turn against the fearsome Sword of the Morning.” Rhaegar lets out a hearty laugh at this and saunters over to Lyanna’s bench. She smiles as he joins her. 

“I spoke to the captain earlier. Joren says we should reach the Sea of Dorne in a fortnight if the current wind stays in our favour. The gods are on our side, my love!” Rhaegar announces happily. His melancholy had given way to a new hopefulness after Lyanna had agreed to marry him. 

“I hope so, I’d like to be back on land and receive news of my family.” Lyanna says. 

“And I as well, I worry for my dear Elia, our children too.” Rhaegar sighs, his indigo eyes watering slightly. “I pray they remain well protected at Dragonstone.”

“The gods are on our side. You said so yourself.” Lyanna whispers, pulling him in closer to kiss him softly on the cheek. She can’t say for certain what’s changed on the ship, but her anxieties have melted away and, in their place, remained only adoration for the Targaryen prince. 

“Shall we retire to the cabin?” Lyanna whispers, a new wave of desire coming over her.

“It’s midday –” Rhaegar begins, before catching her true meaning, then his eyes grow wider.

“I feared Oswell impropriety would influence you.” He laughs wholeheartedly.

“It’s no one’s influence. I’m finally figuring out what I want.” Lyanna whispers, her hands wandering teasingly over his thigh. They hadn’t touched, not really, not since the boat ride over to Dragonstone. Lyanna has equal parts craved and feared it, and every night when they fall asleep side by side, she’s always tempted to push it further, but her fears over her family stop her every time. 

Her family never had her interests in mind. They’d marry her to someone she did not love, all for a position at court. Her feelings were not to be thrown aside for the ambitions of men any longer. She loved Rhaegar, the pretty songs he’d play on his harp during lulls on the ship. Maybe its irrational, she knows it will anger her family, and the north, but she must honour her own feelings first. Surely, they will understand that. 

Rhaegar takes her hand and leads her to the door going below deck. The teasing shouts of Oswell following them as they descend. Lyanna tries to pay him no mind, knowing he’s just as bored as the rest of them. It’s only a few steps from the stairs below to the cabin, the only source of light coming from the small porthole. Lyanna quickly sits back on the bed while Rhaegar shuts the door behind them. 

“When will we marry, Rhaegar?” Lyanna whispers, watching as the prince crosses the room to her, standing centimetres away from her knees.

“We will find a weirwood in Dorne. There must be on in the mountains.” Rhaegar says, stroking her hair gently. His eyes reflecting the determination immovable since they got on the ship. 

Lyanna sighs, knowing the task of finding the Northern gods in Dorne will be very difficult, but she wants to have faith in her lover’s confidence. She wishes they could marry soon, as a part of her still holds onto the ideas of her family that her virtue must be saved for marriage, even if it isn’t with the man her father chose. It is perhaps this reason why she hasn’t pushed Rhaegar to take her already, holding onto one last piece of decency. Although the feeling of his hand running through her hair makes her want to forget all these promises she’s made to herself. 

Lyanna stands from the bed, wrapping her arms around Rhaegar’s shoulders. A new confidence overcoming her. His indigo eyes piercing her own, his arms travelling down her body to hold her hips close. Their foreheads touching together. They stay here for a minute relishing in the feel of each other. Once the tension threatens to bubble over, Lyanna breaks it by filling the last bit of space between them, meeting his lips with her own. She feels Rhaegar let out the breath he was holding and sink into the kiss. His hands pull her hips even closer and slowly wander down to find the curve of her ass. Lyanna responds by snaking her hands up into his hair, clenching her hand lsightly against the roots of the silvery locks. Rhaegar moans unexpectedly into her mouth. 

He pushes them gently back, positioning himself over Lyanna as she moves back to the head of the bed. Her hands wander down his back, feeling smooth lean muscles under his tunic. Once her hands reach the edges, she pulls it gently over his head. He looks down at her hesitantly, his own hands hovering over the bodice of her dress. 

“I want you, Rhaegar. You said so yourself that nothing will stand in our way.” Lyanna whispers, lifting her upper body up to meet Rhaegar’s eyeline. “We are what matters now, our love, the prophecy.” His eyes grow warm at this, her acceptance of the prophecy. And maybe she does believe it, or maybe it’s the feeling of Rhaegar’s thighs straddling her own that makes her believe in him. Her hands wander down his arms and brings his hands to the laces of her dress. He slowly undoes them, his eyes remaining locked on hers.

“I promise you, Lyanna. I’ll keep you safe. You, Elia, the children. Nothing will touch us.” Rhaegar whispers as he delicately opens her bodice to reveal her underclothes. Clumsily, he lays down next to her on the bed so that she can remove her dress. Left only in her smallclothes, she senses the line they are now crossing. Rhaegar pulls her on top of him, lips desperately searching for hers as hands search for new skin to explore. Lyanna’s hips grind down despite herself and she feels Rhaegar’s breath catch.

“Rhaegar,” She breathes heavily between kisses. “Rhaegar, I know it’s proper to wait until we are married, but I no longer wish to be proper.” She sits up, still straddling the prince, feeling his length grow underneath her. 

“Truly?” Rhaegar says, his hands gently resting on her thighs. “We can wait until we are married, whatever you wish.”

“Truly, Rhaegar. I don’t want to wait another minute. You are mine, and I am yours.” Lyanna sighs, pulling at the ties of his pants. He pulls himself up to sitting to help lift them off his hips and soon enough all clothing is discarded between them. Lyanna takes in this view of Rhaegar, his strong physique belaying his training in combat yet his natural leanness denoting his softer nature. She lays back on the bed, pulling him by the shoulder to straddle her. 

“In my eyes, you are already my wife.” Rhaegar whispers as his hands move over her bare breasts. “I will not keep my wife waiting.”


	25. Dock

The dim light of morning sneaks through the porthole as Lyanna stirs awake. As her eyes adjust to the new light, she feels Rhaegar’s grip on her waist tighten and pull her in closer to him. His soft snores indicating the light still hasn’t bothered him. Lyanna looks toward the porthole, her waking view for what feels like months now, but she can’t be sure. She knows it’s been several weeks since her and Rhaegar first slept together and have been together every night since. Exploring each other’s bodies in new ways made the days pass quicker but Lyanna was still anxious to get to dry land.

“Rhaegar, my love?” Lyanna whispers gently, pushing her backside against his front in hopes of waking him. He grunts a response and snuggles further into her hair. “Rhaegar, it is morning. Do you think we may make landfall today?”

“Could be. Depends on how the winds were during the night.” Rhaegar says into her hair. “Let us rest a moment longer in bed, Lyanna.” He says, his hands wandering from her hips up to her breasts. She giggles sleepily.

“Do you truly wish to rest? Your hands suggest otherwise.” Lyanna whispers as her hips grind back against Rhaegar. He pinches one of her nipples playfully in response.

As Lyanna’s mind races with numerous ways they could pass the morning, they are unceremoniously interrupted by Arthur swinging open the door. “Your grace.” He says sternly, “We are set to make land in a matter of hours.”

“Why don’t you come get me in a couple hours, then?” Rhaegar says in exasperation. Lyanna giggles softly, her cheeks turning a soft pink at the intrusion of the knight.   
“Oswell and I thought it best to prepare for landing.” Arthur stated simply. 

“Oswell thought it funny to have you interrupt us.” Rhaegar retorts.

Arthur looks taken aback for a moment before continuing. “It’ll be a couple days until we’re at our final destination once on land, we should leave as soon as we can.”

“Yes, yes, Arthur. Give us a moment and we’ll come up.” Rhaegar says as Lyanna sinks further under the furs. If this were their last night with a bed for a while, Lyanna wishes she could have relished in it a bit more. 

Rhaegar sighs as he stands, stretching his arms up. Lyanna stays in place, watching the ways light hit his back distracting her for a moment. He catches her eyes and smiles teasingly. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Rhaegar. We must go help.” Lyanna says, finally rising from the bed, pulling her nightgown from the floor where she’d abandoned it the night before and trading it for a riding gown from her packed bag. She feels Rhaegar’s gaze on her as she crosses the room to the door. Finally turning to look back at him she matches his mischievous gaze before leaving the room. 

Above deck, Oswell and Arthur are helping the sailors organize their supplies. Horses were brought up from their stalls below and tied to a post near the front of the ship. Through the hustle and bustle of getting prepped for land, no one has noticed them emerge.

“What is the plan once we reach Dorne?” Lyanna asks, leaning into the prince, teasingly bringing a hand up to his hair. 

“We will ride as soon as we hit land, head through the mountains. Elia arranged for a tower to be prepared for us on the other side. We will be safe there.” Rhaegar pulls her into an embrace, lifting her chin up to meet her eyes. 

Oswell seems to finally notice them and runs over leaving Arthur with the weight of whatever crate they were carrying, swearing at his back. “Rhaegar, your grace.” He says, somewhat out of breath. “We must prepare the horses, I’m not sure they’ll carry all we have over the mountains.” He gestures to the horses who have numerous satchels tied around them.

“We need enough supply to last the voyage to the tower, the horses will manage.” Rhaegar says dismissively. Oswell sighs, and mumbles something about a harp as Rhaegar passes him to reach into one of the horse’s packs and pulls out his harp.

“The prince is a romantic, Lyanna.” Oswell sighs, “do you know how hard it its to plan a journey with a romantic.” 

Lyanna chuckles. “I have no doubt he would be completely lost without you and Arthur. Thank you, Oswell.” The knight just shrugs.

“It’s my duty, to act on the whims of kings. At least Rhaegar’s are grounded in this world.” Oswell says, looking out to sea. Lyanna ponders this for a moment. Of course, Oswell’s first loyalty was supposed to be to King Aerys, but she always considered him to be Rhaegar’s man.

“Do you think Rhaegar will be able to get his father to step down? For the good of the realm? Will he become king?” Lyanna asks, observing Oswell intently. He laughs at this and turns to her.

“No. I don’t know what waits for us ashore, my lady, but it won’t be good. Neither Aerys nor Robert will go down without a fight, or war.” Oswell says sternly. “I fear you may have to hide for a while.”

“That’s a very pessimistic view, Oswell. Not everything must result in war.”

“Rhaegar disobeyed an order from the king. He stole away the betrothed of a major lord whose supporters see him as their king.” Oswell says, his voice having a new edge. 

“Prepare for war, Lady Stark.”

“Do I have no say here? I wrote to my father, my brothers. I am doing everything to avoid bloodshed.” Lyanna says desperately, “I know Robert will be mad. My father as well, and things will change. But surely they respect me enough to not go to war over decisions I made.”

“I call things as I see them, and I know men. Nothing good awaits us ashore. You and Rhaegar should have stayed in the captain’s cabin.” Oswell says knowingly, “I hope you got it out of your system, we’ll be sharing a camp again soon and I will not entertain any such noise.”

Lyanna’s cheeks immediately turn pink. “You can’t call me Lady Stark in one breath and make a joke like that in the next.” Oswell laughs.

“Will you two please help?” Arthur calls them out. “Between Rhaegar and his harp and you two gossips I’m the only one –” 

“Okay, Ser Dayne!” Oswell calls back, barely disguising a teasing laugh. “This trip is truly breaking him.” He adds in a whisper to Lyanna.

Lyanna wanders over to where Rhaegar is strumming his harp. The image of him brooding over his instrument makes her heart jump as it did all those months ago in Harrenhal. 

She sits next to him on the crate, and he looks over to her smiling. They here in quiet harmony, but the things Oswell said to her run circles in her brain and a familiar dread begins to creep in. The crew prepares their horses and Rhaegar continues to play while Lyanna tries to keep this turmoil at bay. The captain calls out that they’re docking soon and Lyanna leaps to her feet suddenly anxious at what awaits.

On the dock, already atop a horse and waiting for them is a familiar woman. Lyanna watches as long dark hair blows in the wind, revealing the gentle violet eyes of Ashara Dayne.


	26. Dorne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in an update! my masters degree took over all my time in the last few weeks, but I'm gonna try to keep semi-regular updates for the time being.

Lyanna follows Rhaegar’s lead and trots her horse down the ramp to where the newcomer awaits them. Lyanna watches her apprehensively, violet eyes tracking Lyanna’s movements. Arthur Dayne is the first to reach Ashara, and the siblings smile at each other in greeting while remaining on their horses. It’s the first genuine smile Lyanna’s seen on Arthur in the months she’s known him. 

“Lady Ashara!” Oswell calls out as he’s the last person to leave the boat. “So good to see you in these parts.”

Ashara smiles patiently at the knight. “Ser Oswell. Always a pleasure.” Oswell rides past Lyanna and Rhaegar to join Arthur and Ashara. Lyanna leads her horse to the group, feeling a bit like the odd one out. Ashara turns to smile at her. 

“Lady Lyanna, it’s so good to see you. When Elia wrote me at Starfall to help you on your journey, I could hardly refuse her.” Ashara says, her eyes dancing as she spoke.  
“You heard from Elia?” Lyanna asks in shock. “Did she say anything else?”

“Yes, what news is there? We’ve been at sea for weeks.” Rhaegar interjects. Lyanna notices Ashara’s smile falter slightly and she glances at her brother. Lyanna’s stomach drops to her feet in anticipation of whatever news the Dayne girl has brought. 

“I left Starfall a week ago, so there may have been news since.” Ashara starts, her voice wavering slightly. “But the story from the Riverlands is that Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna, and upon finding out Brandon rode to King’s Landing and demanded to fight Rhaegar.”

“No!” Lyanna cries out, “I wrote him and explain that I was hiding from the king, that Rhaegar was helping me.” She looks to Rhaegar, whose eyes, sullen and heavy, stare out towards the ground. 

“Another story likely reached his ears first.” Rhaegar says, barely above a whisper. Lyanna looks back towards Ashara, who takes the cue to start talking again. 

“The king took him prisoner, and those who rode into the Red Keep with him.” Ashara shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Lyanna. The last thing I heard was Lord Stark is on his way to King’s Landing, at the order of the king.” 

Lyanna’s stomach threatens to spill out of her throat, and she fears she may fall from her horse. She thought she did everything to avoid this exact scenario. Why did Brandon act so rashly? What story made him ride south, weeks before his wedding? Now her father had left Winterfell, not for Brandon’s wedding but to bail him out of the royal dungeons. IT’s all her fault. This was all a result of her playing knight at a turning and falling for a married prince. She looks towards that prince now, hopeless. 

“Fear not, Lyanna.” Rhaegar says, but the calmness of his voice does not reach his eyes. “You father is warden of the north and a rational man, he’ll sort this out.”

“And your father?” Lyanna says rather shortly. Rhaegar flinches as though she had hit him. The rest of the group looks around uncomfortably.

“Let’s go. We have a long way to go, and I’d like to get as much area between this dock and us before the sun comes down.” Arthur interjects the thick silence. The men nod and direct their horses away from the dock. Lyanna stays frozen in place, her mind in King’s Landing with her brother. 

“Come, Lyanna. Ride with me and I’ll tell you what else Elia wrote to me.” Ashara says softly. Lyanna turns to look at her and nods sadly. They lead their horses off in the direction of the men. 

Lyanna doesn’t really want to hear what this Dornish lady has to say. Her brother was imprisoned, she herself presumed kidnapped. How could it all be going so wrong? Her letters were essentially useless. Her words nothing compared to the tempers of men.

“Lyanna, listen. I know we did not have the chance to speak at Harrenhal, but I got to know Ned and Brandon well.” Ashara says, her eyes full of concern. “You Starks are honourable people. Brandon will get out of this.” Lyanna can only nod for if she opens her mouth, she knows the tears won’t keep away. Ashara sighs before continuing. “Elia’s no longer confined to her bed. In her last letter ot men, she hoped to leave for Dorne soon.”

“At least there’s that good news.” Lyanna says not insincerely. 

“The Crownlands are becoming unsafe for all who aren’t unquestionably loyal to Aerys, even for those who are.” Ashara sighs. “The tourney may have been our last pretense at peace.”

“I pray that is not the case.” Lyanna responds, “My father will reason with King Aerys.”

“Of course, Lyanna.” Ashara sighs, “Have you heard from Ned, or Benjen in the north?” Her voice suddenly hesitant. 

“I’ve heard from no one since the tourney. Not even while at Harrenhal with the Whents.” Lyanna says bitterly.

“Benjen had a funny friend, Howland? I was quite smitten. I thought perhaps you had news of him.” Ashara admits sheepishly. Lyanna looks to her, a small smile appearing at the creases of her mouth despite her anxieties.

“I knew it!” Lyanna laughs, “Howland was all coy about it, but I knew. Last I heard he was back in Greywater Watch.” Ashara nods solemnly at that.

“I hope our paths cross again, whatever may happen.” She sighs, as the group leaves the dock behind and heads off into the sands of Dorne.


	27. Campfire

That first night, the group huddled around a fire as desert winds blew around the. Lyanna leans against Rhaegar as he plays a soft song on his harp. They’re close to the mountain range, just seen on the horizon with the setting sun. Rhaegar had been kind of cold on their trip, his eyes reflecting the turmoil Lyanna feels inside. He continues to be fixated on his harp, while she watches his movements. 

Oswell and Ashara speak lightly. About their travels, the weather, anything but what might be happening in King’s Landing. Arthur continues to brood, despite his sister’s appearance. Ashara had brought several flasks of wine with her, and the group passes it around, trying to lift the mood.

“Lyanna, won’t you have some?” Ashara smiles her way. Lyanna takes the flask hesitantly and brings it to her lips. “We should have one night of fun before we get to the tower.” 

“I would say Rhaegar and Lyanna had several nights of fun on the boat here.” Oswell teases, and Lyanna sits up staring daggers in his direction. “But I am in need of a fun night” He says, reaching over for the flask. 

“We shouldn’t drink until we reach the tower.” Arthur interjects.

“Have some fun, dear brother.”

“Arthur hasn’t had fun since we swore our vows.” Oswell laughs, taking a second swig from the flask. Arthur scoffs while Ashara protests that he should be sharing the wine.

“What tower?” Lyanna says, still not privy to all details of their plan. Although she should be, she has been so distracted by the whirlwind of movement and attraction to Rhaegar. But now, with the news from King’s Landing, she chides her former self for having been so blasé about details.

“There’s a tower, just over the mountains on the opposite side of the Boneway. We should be reaching them tomorrow” Arthur says, “But not if we are too hungover to ride.” He says, channelling all his aggression towards Oswell, who only rolls his eyes. 

“There’s a Weirwood at the foot of the mountains.” Rhaegar says, meeting Lyanna’s eyes for the first time since the dock. “We can finally be married, dear Lyanna.”

“Is that still wise, Rhaegar? Things are looking tense.” Arthur says. “Perhaps we should head straight for the Tower and send letters immediately. Do some damage control.” 

“No.” Lyanna says, unexpectedly firm. “If I return unmarried, my father will never let me see Rhaegar again. This way, what’s done is done. He will have to accept it. If I’m married willingly in the eyes of the old gods, they cannot say Rhaegar kidnapped me. They will know I wanted this.” Arthur turns to look at her, annoyance and confusion dancing across his face. Rhaegar nods solemnly, before returning his attention to his harp.

“Okay! Enough shop talk, we have had a stressful ride today. Let’s relax! Let’s play a game!” Ashara announces loudly, and Oswell joins in her excitement clapping his hands together. 

“There’s a great idea! You’re a welcome addition to our troupe, Lady Dayne.” Oswell says. “What game shall we play?”

“What say you Rhaegar? You sit and play your harp and tend to your lady, but what of a plan? Your father? Lady Lyanna’s father?” Arthur turns to Rhaegar, who doesn’t look up from his instrument. “Say something, Your Grace.”

“It’ll all be okay; the prophecy will come true. All that transpires between now and then is a part of it.” Rhaegar whispers, almost entirely to himself. 

“What?” Lyanna says, her voice wavering slightly. “What does that mean, Rhaegar?”

“You’re putting an entire kingdom at risk for your foolish prophecy.” Arthur stands, “we should have headed for the capital the instant we heard about Lord Stark.”

“You are speaking to your prince, Ser.” Rhaegar says, his voice adopting an edge Lyanna has never heard. “The plan is to go to the Tower, so we go to the Tower.”

“Rhaegar! Arthur! Relax!” Oswell stands to meet the other two men. “We cannot possibly make it to King’s Landing in time to do anything, you must know that Arthur. Let us have one night of free of worry. Then tomorrow we can find your precious weirwood in the mountains.”

Lyanna looks across the fire at the men, emotions at a high. Her own an unrecognizable confused mixture. She whispers Rhaegar’s name quietly, unheard over the men’s continued bickering. She stands, and as she does Ashara follows her lead, reaching for her hand. The stranger Dayne girl is little comfort, as Lyanna waits for her lover, the man she risked everything for to turn his attention back to her. 

But he doesn’t. He only shouts and argues with Arthur, Oswell helplessly trying to deescalate the situation. Lyanna calls Rhaegar’s name again and again as he continues to not notice her.

“Rhaegar!” Lyanna finally cries out, and the three men turn to look at her. “Rhaegar, just tell me that we will be okay.” Her voice shakes, tears threatening to spill over. The prince immediately crosses around the fire and pulls her into an embrace.

“I promised, Lyanna. I’ll keep you safe. No matter what else happens. You will be safe.” Lyanna sinks into his arms, but his words don’t offer their usual comfort.


End file.
